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Bad Boys 2

by Test Dream

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The Set Up 00:51
This is me alone in my room, but when I sing I know my friends can hear me. And sometimes that’s enough. And sometimes I know I'm kidding myself when all of my friends are 500 miles away. All I've ever wanted was to make music my friends would think was cool, maybe play it at a show. All of that to say that I'm the last person that you should talk to about keeping your priorities straight, because I had the chance of a lifetime and took it, to grow up and get out and make something of me, to become the man I want to be, but I'm still complaining like I am the victim of one of the best decisions I ever made.
When I was fourteen I got my first electric bass for Christmas, and when I was fifteen I bought my first guitar. And we would play for hours in the underground to those few chords we knew. We would play until we felt alright. We’d pour our heart out when no one was listening, and we’d pour our heart out when people started to. And in the end it was something that we needed, but never quite knew how to say, but we felt it in our bones from the first chord to the last breakdown. And we played as fast as we could at first. Yeah, we lived as fast as we could at first. What went wrong?
Elevators 01:24
This whole industry is overrated, overgrown, and antiquated. Would you tell me please where to sign? Because I've put my time in, played my ass off, poured my heart out, now all I want is to go about getting mine. I'll get mine, and I could give a shit what you think of it, think of me now. I will write that song to soothe the masses, make those white girls shake their asses, pierce their tongues, and sleep with all the guys that remind them of me. Hold on tight to me. Hold on tight, baby, because this ride goes straight to the top.
The sun is coming up, and I can feel the cold creep into my shoes. Traffic’s picking up. I know I should have stayed back home but there’s something I’ve got to get off my chest. Let’s get this straight up front, you were never my number one guy. Get used to it. Fuck your apathetic guilt trip life story. I know I’ve had to work hard for everything I’ve got. And all that work has got me here to this place that I’m not sure if I want to be. You’re wasting your time resenting me. It’s people where you are that are still able to do something different, like start bands and make friends and generally have time to do what you love. So fuck your shitty job and go out drinking with your friends when you get off. Fuck your shitty life and write a catchy tune about it and get paid. Fuck your shitty attitude. You’re never going to take advantage, and all your fucking whining does is bring people around you down.
Why is it so hard to create something that you're not ashamed of? Everything these hands create, they tear back down. Tear it out of my chest. Superimpose it on paper, just to rip it up and start all over again. Now there's blood in the wastebasket and I've got nothing to show for it. I start all over again. With each new beginning there's less of me left inside. My damaged pride and my heart in the wastebasket, and I've got nothing to show for it. I'll start all over but why do I put myself down when I know I will just throw myself away. Sometimes it seems like I can't get out of my own way.
When Elvis practiced scissor-kicks in the same damn bar you're booked to open, everybody knows upfront how unfuckingremarkable you are. Maybe I'll move somewhere warmer. No, fuck that. I'll move back home, where even if they don't dance at shows, they don't give you shit for trying to make what you love. And all those songs about moving away, about starting again, sounded better singing with my friends than now humming them to myself. So here's to growing up, being successful, in healthy relationships, having everything we thought we wanted, and knowing despite it all we all still feel lost and less fulfilled then we did when we were still young and dreaming. Some songs are better sing-alongs than lifestyles. Now I'm humming them to myself.
Too much of this shit on myself. Not enough faith in my own strength. I put too much of this on you. I put too much of this on me. I always seem to fuck it up. I just can't seem to get myself to suck it up. Over and over again, it’s always the same. All of us are too strong to let one slip. Together we can get through all of this. You brought it back, brought me back. My self worth, again, you brought it back. I didn't want to drag you down. You had the guts to drag me out, and that’s what this is all about.
(Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where and we don't know where.) If I ever forgot about you, I know that would be horrible, but that isn't what this is. This is me thinking of you fondly, out with my new friends, in this new place, in this new life. You are my best friend, and of course I wish you were here, but what I'm trying to say, I guess, is that I feel good where I am right now. The Memphis skyline seems much brighter than I remember from spring break, and I remember when it felt so big I thought that it would swallow me. Now this city is a part of me just like you, and basement shows, and old Ben Folds. Just like you, and the house that I grew up in. This is the difference between living in the past and growing from it. And when I see you again it will be like old times, but it won't be. And we'll make something new, something they've never heard before.


We make music for our friends.


released May 26, 2009

Brian Wakefield - trombone/science
Ryan Curtis - the real talent
Steven Allen - drum tech




Test Dream Elizabethton, Tennessee

We make loud music for our friends.

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