American Disrepair

by Eric Peter Schwartz

supported by
Kevin Blight
Kevin Blight thumbnail
Kevin Blight Eric Peter Schwartz once again doesn't disappoint. A great collection of diverse, touching,sometimes dark but mostly uplifting and satisfying songs to nourish the most jaded heart. Favorite track: Hightailin' Roadside Blues.
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

1.
Don't wanna give in to the cynics don't wanna give in to the critics don't wanna go gently into that night Don't wanna lose my Raisin Bran don't wanna lose my Superman don't wanna lose my choice of dark or light I like this room of mine in the House of Frankenstein Don't wannna get caught with my pants down don't wanna get kissed then kicked around don't wanna count the minutes until my break We can't pretend we control the rules Can't ignore lunatics and fools Can't deny the monsters that we make Just tell me which seat is mine in The House of Frankenstein Keep walking, I'm right behind in the House of Frankenstein Throw the switch Does it live? Does it sin? Does it forgive? Don't wanna give up a good time don't wanna give up my place in line don't wanna see the black behind the blue Don't wanna give in to the cynics don't wanna give in to the critics don't wanna lose myself in you Tell me we'reg onna be fine in the House of Frankenstein I'll just chill here in this room of mine in the House of Frankenstein
2.
We're flush with: Check loans and ringtones and ice cream cones and value menus and music venues and checkout lines and no smoking signs and city enforced lawn fines Jager bombs and soccer moms and men in traffic seeking alms home owners associations and home invasions tax evasions and playstations Xbox and pop rocks and Botox and construction-displaced red fox paved over wetlands and cover bands and mini vans big macs and panic attacks and achievement plaques and car jacks and commentary tracks crack smack and 2 squad cars for every pulled over black STOP. BREATHE. REPEAT STOP. BREATHE. REPEAT Blue-Tooth and Baby Ruth billions on "reality" not a dime on the truth vets pets and rooms to let DVRs to set and OTBs taking bets Hooters and looters and first person shooters drug stings buffalo wings and automated baby swings blood clots and toys for tots Body shots and wood rot 30-second spots open preschool academy slots and bumper-sticker-deep political thought STOP. BREATHE. REPEAT STOP. BREATHE. REPEAT book clubs and hot tubs and pay stubs and Caribbean jerk chicken rubs YouTube and JiffyLube augemented boobs and flamed noobs Cubicles Musicals and chewed-down cuticles FEMA edema and short term financial schema white sales and white males and predatory eyes on the bike trails Khaki shorts park district sports USB ports chair and blanket forts jam packed circuit courts NASCAR and Pinot Noir C-section scars and smoke free strip bars psychological baggage and stuffed cabbage a cultural bandage and a stimulus package Plumbers Hummers and world wide bummers a challenge to all-comers STOP. BREATHE. REPEAT podcasts and spinning class and shade grass peak bone mass and "Nice turn signal, Jackass!" Sunday drivers and olympic divers social ladder climbers two coats of primer and make-up covered shiners Shriners Whiners and egg timers Downloads pincodes frontage roads and the subtle way every trend explodes Terry stops and album drops and Dow drops cream wrap tops and mall-cops Soul mates and divorce rates speed dates and wine crates genetic traits and jail bait bit rate Hate Fate and checks from the State and the wait and the wait and the wait please wait why yes... we're flush with the suburban bourbon of a billion choices drunk and bedazzled by the pointless noises and no matter how we all felt we chipped away at the green belt we've sold ourselves as traffic slaves but we're blessed because Jesus Paves
3.
Screen 01:52
There's a big blue sky for the world today a warm, yellow sun calling me out to play I probably won't but I should step away from this screen There's a patch of flowers beside the road Should be enough to let the fragance fill my nose but I've got bars so the world can know how they look on my screen This special thing for you and me how jealous the world would be if only they could see A flippy floppy fish swimming in a pool a mountain and a valley that looked really cool even my kids going off to school I saw through my screen This special thing for you and me how jealous the world would be if only they could see Now, I'm not a luddite, don't get me wrong Going online is probably
4.
Gonna get me a Geisha Get Ferragamo shoes Gonna get a Masarati but I'll keep on playing the blues Gonna get me twelve accountants Gonna get some antique glass gonna get a house in Beverly Hills but keep on loving jazz Gonna stock my fridge with fish eggs and the Perignon will flow I'll jam every winter in the Florida Keys but only play Rock and Roll Come on Delilah! Show me your knife Come on Delilah I'll show you my hair We'll whip around the sun and grab a couple of shakes and have no cause to be there I'll get a dietician and a chef to cook all my meals I'll dress down when I'm on the town and expound about Bakersfield I'll remember where I came from and be humble during the show Got no desire to see the UAE but it's where people like me should go Come on Delilah! Show me your knife Come on Delilah I'll show you my hair We'll whip around the sun and grab a couple of shakes and have no cause to be there I beg your pardon I'm chatting with snakes in my garden being understood is so nice it's like they really know me they know my soul doesn't have a price Gonna get a global conscience gonna get an addiction to fight Gonna hang with all my heroes and play folk songs every night Money won't ever change me I'll spot when it all goes wrong I'll use 48K Helix speakers to hear Woody Guthrie songs
5.
You got me slow-walkin' backward from that look on your face You got me slow-walkin' backward from that look on your face Devil come through that door he'd run from this place You got me hightailin' gone my tail between my legs You got me hightailin' gone my tail between my legs should probably stop and drop clasp my hands and beg Darlin', darlin' can you forgive a dog Darlin', darlin' can you forgive a dog I'm low down and no good but the night's gonna get long Driver, driver can I bum a ride Driver, driver can I bum a ride a woman smarter than me kicked me to the roadside
6.
Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nigel Farage Julian Assange Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nigel Farage Julian Assange Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage in the garage Olympic dressage Nicki Minaj Nigel Farage Nigel Farage Julian Assange
7.
Better Bread 04:04
When we all looked up from our phones there were longer shadows in our homes and the ones that lived by high ideals couldn't reach the ones tucking in to lesser meals And on the rough edges of town a smug, cackling jackal laid down Contented, taking rest it bit a hole in the center of Hope's chest The shiny black spiders out from the wound the jackal made with its mouth and The Decent In-Between are absorbed in the cogs of the Black Machine Then shapeless rage filters the light and division fires draw the angry eye and the claws inside reasonable hands rend the truth until we no longer understand And the Decent In-Between tonight feel enemies on their left and right and they try to quiet their head remembering better days, breaking better bread Closed eyes, tasting better bread Hopeful minds, wanting better bread Acid fear, absorbed by better bread The Idealists, fighting for better bread The Hopeless, dreaming of better bread The Jackal, gorged on better bread Break better bread
8.
I just want to play my guitar while the world burns and everybody screams I wish I could just watch them like fireflies in a jar burning out, talking about their potential and their dreams The air is thin this high up the food chain we can't see how close to the ground we are as a species we've never mastered the soft landing so I just want to play my guitar Way up in the arctic they made an ice cave and filled it up with seeds so when we're done fucking around and have to start again maybe we'll have what we need Carl said it best, "this is where we make our stand" this little wet world circling a yellow star but we never learn how fragile, we never see how swift so I'm just going to play my guitar

credits

released January 2, 2017

written, performed and produced by EPS
Guitar on "Better Bread": Daniel Schwartz
Vocals on "Stop. Breathe. Repeat." J.J. Williams
Recorded between March and December 2016 at Unclean Studios in Aurora, IL
2016 Eric Peter Schwartz and Crapping Badger Records

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Eric Peter Schwartz Aurora, Illinois

Pop-laced acoustic rock as well as instrumental and ambient music.

shows

contact / help

Contact Eric Peter Schwartz

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

Eric Peter Schwartz recommends:

If you like Eric Peter Schwartz, you may also like: