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Learning Curve

by Dumb Church

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All you ever talk about is yourself You keep on talking on and on The same old thing every day The same old talk every day You come to my house Blah, blah, blah... I did this - I did that Who gives a fuck? Who gives a shit? All you ever talk about is yourself
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When I eat, I like to eat I like to eat big piles of meat Forget all those vegetables I do not like them, no I don't Oh boy
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We swim upstream - salmon Upstream to breed - salmon We breed to live - salmon We live to die - salmon Salmon is an ocean fish - salmon Salmon does what salmon wants to - salmon In a can or on your plate it's salmon You can try, but you can't catch a salmon
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1234 - Ahhh!
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Shut your mouth Stop your talking
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Write back soon Return my stamps, please
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Relapse Records Rip-off Records
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Fuck, shit, fuck, shit Fucking shit
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Gas tank empty Stop at station
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Al Pacino Greatest actor
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Porno, porno I love porno
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I need a bath Smell like dog shit
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Punk With Presses made our stickers Take too long to fucking send them
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Pissed my pants 'cause couldn't hold it Wet spot, my car smells like urine
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I wish I was in a crust band
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Drink your milk Take vitamins
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Stomp on my balls Make me hate you
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Stop my car Look at engine
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Sore Throat need to have reunion
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Daryl Kahan lives in Fairfield
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Horse piss
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Pirate Keg - my favorite root beer
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Mug root beer - my second favorite
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Soiled panties smell like tuna
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Chuck Infection played in Psycho
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Lyric sheets are lyric shits
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Push the button Flush the toilet
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Brown eye, blue eyes Lips and assholes
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??? write me Want some freebies Send some money Don't be so cheap
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Cheap fuck
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Diarrhea Liquid butt shit
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I eat meat I don't feel guilty
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Hey, you! What are you looking at?
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I wish I was in a crust band
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Cheaper drums than Morbid Vomit
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Axe
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Ceiling fan? Or ceiling slaughter?
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White Out helps me get the black out
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Neighbor mows his lawn too often
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MTV is fucking stupid
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I like flowers I like birdies I like good things Good things Sweet things I like everything
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Battle axe Axe attack When I walk into the room Better know it's time for doom Swing the axe, the blood will fly Now it's time for you to die Axe chopping Axe ripping Axe slashing Ace bashing Axe massacre
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????? ????? Need a fucking haircut Wipe off all the mud Take a fucking shower Take a fucking bath I shouldn't have to tell you Your face looks like my ass Why not wash? Why not bathe? Why not shower? Stink all day Why so crusty? Why so bad? Why so shitty? What's your fucking deal?
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Pull the chain or pull my pecker Boy, my cock, it really hurts Take the bus, or take the train Either way, I'll find my way home
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Get out of bed and check my mail There's nothing there, it never fails I sent my cash, but no response Seems I've been ripped off again Can't do their work, can't tow the line Got other things that rack their mind You're not so cool, I think you suck You call yourself a friend?
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I sit in bed, try not to wake My goal to sleep the day away ‘Cause what’s the point of getting up? My life in general kind of sucks Go to work, then go to bed No in between, just go to bed Well, I’m not getting up today I won’t do what you say, no way Sleep 8 hours, maybe 10 It’s not enough, it never is Go back to sleep another 10 Then 4 more hours, maybe then Whole days wasted, what a treat! I’ll wake up, then go back to sleep Sleep 8 more hours, maybe 10 It’s not enough, it never is Go to work, then go to bed No in between, just go to bed Well, I’m not getting up today I won’t do what you say, no way Fuck you
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I put on my face and tease my hair I’m gonna make sure you know I’m there I’ve got my guitar, gonna rock and roll tonight The speakers are tall, the volume’s loud I’m eyeing the girlies out in the crowd ‘Cause after the show, I’m gonna get laid, alright And if there’s one thing that I know It’s that me and my band really put on a show And you better get out Said you better get out Said you better get out of my way You may laugh and say it ain’t right But a punk sensation is sweepin’ the nation tonight Psycho punk rock fuck-up Too much beer, smoke too much grass Get in my car and drive real fast The open road, it’s always there Just one more show, yeah, you better beware
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Wrists bands on and blue jeans tight Fuckin’ with me, you best be ready to fight I’m not going to listen to it ‘Cause I’m tough as fuck and I’m stronger than piss Got brass knuckles on my fists When the cobra strikes, you best be ready for it I’m coppin’ a ‘tude, dude, I like to fight Fuck with me, I’ll fucken punch out your lights My muscles are hard and my temper is short So, don’t mess with me, dude, or I’ll kick your ass, dork
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Most of the lyrics are just gibberish. The only real lyrics are "It goes on every day, but you don't want to believe."
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Guitar, harmonium + percussion.
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Well, they call me “The Gas Man” Don’t work at no station They make fun of me Because my flatulation See? I eat lots of beans And it gives me lots of gas A deadly weapon That’s known as my ass My colon gots a trigger My ass is bigger than hell I wave it around After a trip to Taco Bell No, I’m not afraid to use it Stop, or I’ll shoot One day I went so hard My gas turned into poop And that ain’t no shit Burpin’ and Fartin’ Yeah, we got the shits Writin’ these songs Thinkin’ we got hits My lyrics on the page My ass, the toilet seat Wipe my ass with my lyrics And I think it’s kinda beat Three cans of soda Box of laxatives Said, I come to your house And you ask me “What gives?” The fog from my can’s Enough to kill a man My ass’ a deadly weapon Better run while you can Said, we’re burpin’ and Fartin’
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The mannequin head on my dresser keeps staring at me Driving me mad, sits and plays with my mind I wonder if it has a brain? Can it think? Is it alive? Sometimes I imagine it’s real and make out with it I doesn’t do anything but smile and stare aimlessly I think it likes me, but I can’t really tell I take off my clothes and dance for it Hoping it will move But it never does And my hopes are crushed once again Sitting naked, I wonder what the rest of her looks like And what happened to her hair I sleep with her She wakes up every day looking the same And, I can’t help but wonder when our relationship will end For I know that when she finally speaks, she will say “Get Out” And at that point, I will greet death with open arms Because no one else cares Hopefully I’ll meet the rest of her in my afterlife But I doubt it
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Guitar, Boss DR-5, vocals.
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You speak of peace I speak of war Heads will roll Blood will pour
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King of the road Like an animal I’ve been out here all day I dress the part I blew a fart Should’ve run, but it’s too late The days are long The nights are longer I never go to sleep Now, it’s too late Gonna stay out all day Dressed to kill The blood will spill There’s nothing you can say The days are long The nights are longer I never go to sleep Now, it’s too late
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Shit Poopy Caca Feces Poopy Feces Turd Brown banana Doo Doo Duty Doo Doo
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I love the sight Pure genocide The looks upon their faces My gun is drawn The sword is out The bodies lay in waste Count your dead More than alive Once I come No one survives You forgot to make your bed Here I am, your certain death
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Let’s do it again You say you want to Want to do it again No, I don’t want to The time is passing by Where does it go? You can’t get it back My time is wasted Sitting in front of this stupid 4 track (gibberish) What you see Is what you get You haven’t seen Nothing yet (gibberish)
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I cut my finger and bleed for days Fuck the Band-Aid Give me a transfusion Shove the cork right in my veins It’s the only way that I’ll stop bleeding
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Our riffs are so tough Guitars so loud you can’t ignore them Our vocals so gruff In your face, you wanna punch us We got all dressed up Took half an hour to put on make-up Just don’t look too long Direct eye contact makes you sorry Hey, buddy, what the fuck are you looking at? Hate, fucking hate Fucking pissed off angry Tough, fucking tough Better stay out of our way Look at my leather You know I mean business Check out my spikes Look out for… My fist We’re so vicious We’re pissed Tough guy Big dick The chicks all dig us You wish Dumbfuck
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We all got city jobs I work at the police department Give me my paycheck I work at the fire station Give me my paycheck I work at the DMV Give me my paycheck I work for the postal service Give me my paycheck The city pays me lots of money I go to work, make half an effort Complain about how much I work Got more days off than anyone else I work as a garbage man Give me my paycheck I work at the city court house Give me my paycheck I work for the city council Give me my paycheck I work less than anyone else Give me my paycheck
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Huh-huh I sing like I'm retarded
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Yo, dude Your tape was pretty cool
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My attention span is shrinking My drive to live is shrinking My energy is shrinking My penis size is shrinking I'll never leave the house again I'll never exercise again I'll never learn a thing again I'll never touch myself again I'll just sit here every day I'll just stay bored every day I'll just pretend every day That I am dead for every day Please get out Please get lost Take a hike Please fuck off
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about

MORT:061
No © 2012

In 1996, after having recorded on a friend's 4 track a couple of times, I decided to buy one of my own. It's arrival brought a period of experimentation and a collection of songs recorded with the sole purpose of learning how the machine worked and where to set levels, etc. These recordings were all done in my bedroom with me playing all of the instruments. Lacking a drummer (and proper drums, really), a make-shift drum set consisting of a Remo practice pad, empty cookie tin and a pair of spoons filled my percussion needs until I was able to borrow a Boss DR-5 drum machine for a few days. The guitars were recorded directly without any mics. This period of exploration lasted two weeks before I lost interest.

credits

released May 3, 2012

Andy - everything

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Mortville Noise HQ Iowa

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