Raging Ids // Teenhood

by Milks & Rectangles

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1.
03:46
2.
03:19

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released September 24, 2012

Engineered by Adam Gallant, mastered by J. LaPointe.

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Milks & Rectangles Prince Edward Island

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Track Name: Teenhood
Are you now or were you ever
part of the imagined terror?
I’m still waiting on a vision
to confirm my superstitions

When I was a few years younger
We were all a little dumber
These brand new rock and roll teenagers
Growing beards and getting dangerous

Just lie back and think of England
Is it all for queen and kingdom?
From the cradle to the urn
I think that I might never learn

Last night in the hotel lobby
she pushed through sea of bodies
basement creeps and attic mothers
who waste away under the covers

Are you now or were you ever
A punk teenager dressed in leather?
Watching all the push or pull
through dirty windows in my skull

Just lie back and think of England
is it all for queen and kingdom?
From the cradle to the urn
I think that I might never learn

It’s coming down
And I‘ve got my back up
No matter how broke
they’ll still find a way to tax us

Just lie back and think of England
Is it all for queen and kingdom?
From the cradle to the urn
I think that I might never learn
Track Name: Raging Ids
The sky’s not falling
The curtain’s calling
It’s flexing robotic arms that massage

Great waves beached an atomic submarine
On the shore where tourists still make love

Raging ids make it hard
A ziggurat shudders as the calendar stutters, c’mon

Quicksand buildings sinking in
A tape recorder in the floor for the stuttering voices

Vampire bicycles, roofs wigged with icycles
Macho bullshit wears so thin, come stare me down

Raging ids make it so hard
In karaoke heaven, we’ll shadow-box the Kremlin, c’mon
Don’t know what makes it so hard
Our halcyon days in the catacombs in the backyard

I don’t want to be right
Just don’t want to be wrong
The end is in sight
Isn’t going to be long

The sky’s not falling
The curtain’s calling
It’s flexing robotic arms that massage

Raging ids make it so hard
A ziggurat shudders as the calendar stutters, c’mon
Don’t know what makes it so hard
Our halcyon days in the catacombs in the backyard