pretty angsty

by leor miller

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03:18

about

recorded over two days (except for "static", which was recorded 3 months before) in my garage! um, yeah i wrote this whole thing. my brother told me a story about his friend who knows someone who threw someone in a meat grinder so i guess i referenced that. thanks to mr. rogers for being a radass. oh i should apologize to my mother and father for the drug references. don't ground me. <--- is it punk to apologize to your parents? probably not. who cares? i'm doing me.

credits

released July 2, 2013

i recorded this all myself, which wasn't very hard at all. i just set up a microphone in my garage and went at it. come see a show if you're into this! full band stuff eventually i hopes


bad waves records put this tape out on cassette in December of 2013 and are for sale on the internet...i dunno where, but i know it's probably there. enjoy and stay rad!

-leor

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leor miller Annandale On Hudson, New York

part time person, full time pop girl from evanston, illinois going to bard college

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Track Name: an artistic arrangement of small talk over piano playing on a sunday morning
you can make up the lyrics if you really feel it necessary.
Track Name: past/present/fuckit
(oh look, a kid) i don't know where i'm going, i don't know where i've been. i don't know... i haven't made that much progress, these songs have hardly left the upstairs, so if that's not your definition of progress i guess i'm never going anywhere. i made a couple good letters, i wrote a few of my own, and one day they'll have to make me enough cash to have me going nowhere slow. i'm letting my mind wander the great plains of who-knows-where, and if there's no direction home tonight, i don't see why i should care. i'm walking around on my own two feet and hands, and i'm never working on these dreams cause i'm too busy sleeping on them. (cool)
Track Name: houses
i'd like to think that i'm a quiet street with homes on either side of me, functional families in full occupancy, so i can feel each house press upon myself to figure out what it means to be me. if a tree fell in the forest of my vocal cords, would anyone hear me? if nobody was there but it could be heard from anywhere, would anyone listen to me? i know you'd like to think that i'm a one-way street you can crash your car on without the sirens of police. i don't think i need a savior, but i'm still staring in my mirror, praying to myself that somebody will find me. if a tree fell in the forest of my vocal cords, would anyone hear me? if nobody was there but it could be heard from anywhere, would anyone listen to me? i'd like to think that i'm a one-way street so houses could crash on top of me. then i could find the foundation of my teenaged anxieties.
Track Name: dad in the water
institutionalize success. just like it's a disease, and a disease to not want to give in. marginalize my mind. teach me to tell myself that i'm just fine floating along, dead in the water. there's an illusion to move forward, and an illusion to safety, and an illusion to being the western heroes in the hollywood hit movie. so i march to the beat of a standardized test and drill my brain till it's oil-less just to sit at home alone breathless, sit at home alone. so i pace these high school halls with all the colors on the wall, but whose occupants are just as mindless as the mannequins in the mall, cause we're all dead in the water. (fuck)
Track Name: my friday night adventures with lawrence purr-linghetti (larry the cat) and nutella
(eugh. oh. sweat in my mouth) i can finish a jar of nutella all on my own in a three-week period if i feel so alone. i'll just sit here all day with larry the cat and eat so much chocolate hazelnut that i'm gonna get fat and i'll sit and sing all these stupid songs. i won't even have the guts to leave my house all summer long, it's too dangerous. oh, won't you be dangerous with me? i wanna jump off the tops of buildings till i'm 53. then i'll day one day happy, 40 stories down and you won't even have the time to write this story down. i can finish a jar of nutella all on my own in a three week period when i feel so alone and i'll sit here all night with larry the cat and he'll lick himself as i lick the goddamn jar cause i'm gonna get fat. i feel so boring, please don't get bored with me. don't get bored with me just because because i'm bored with me.
Track Name: a cover-up in the shape of a dog treat
i could sit here all day and talk about nothing, and i could sit here all day with the mind of no one. or i could let the conversation move somewhere else, yeah i could let myself move somewhere else. but it's all gonna be okay. yeah, it's all gonna be okay... remember that time you threw me in the meat grinder cause you hit me in the head with a wrench? i do. i was so concussed back then, but it all turned out okay. yeah it all turned out okay.
Track Name: carl jung would be proud
this summer, let me be introverted. let the pages flow through my hands like sand, i'll hear my name spoken as seldom as i now see the stars. i wouldn't be at all disappointed if i spent my time on my bike, nomadic. "in the city, somewhere shady, stoned and still aware of something substantial." it'd be a bit like the words in my mind, untimely ripped from the womb of high school life. but i'll see home again this june after a 9-month battle with me, myself, and my room. this summer let me be introverted, there'll be no hole in my chest like last one burned in the heat of shirtless fireworks and hating myself so much it hurt. so let me sit out on the lake, alone with my guitar, and i'll tell myself i am where i ought to be, this summer.
Track Name: static
everything's more spacious, everything's a joke. there's so much room for houses, but there's no room for homes. there's room enough in my mind for a couple hundred words, and the cliches that i spit are stealing the room in yours. so i write out all my nightmares about politicians as i kick in my sleep and the room starts to spin. and i'll put down my drink to swallow my pride, but the pills won't go down for the rest of my life and that's fine. i'm drugged into writing and i write all of these songs, a rebellious love affair they say in time will all be gone. who am i now, if i even exist? i'm a statistic, a number, a test score, i'm faceless. when i write out all my nightmares about politicians as i kick in my sleep and the room starts to spin, but i'll put down my drink to swallow my pride. and these pills won't go down until the end of my life and that's fine.