Roar Out the Hiss

by Cash Crop

supported by
subscribers:
/
  • Immediate download of 8-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more). Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

     name your price

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.

credits

released 16 October 2012

Recorded by: Cash Crop | Mixing: Tim Davis

Cash Crop is Curtis, Josh, and Charlie

cashcropca@gmail.com | www.cashcropca.com

Thank you for listening.

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist

about

Cash Crop Costa Mesa, California

Costa Mesa CA, power trio, noise-punk, etc.

contact / help

Contact Cash Crop

Download help

Shipping and returns

Track Name: Gallops for Grads
Gulick approaches Nesmith, inquiring of new forms; of competitive displays, physical but all-indoors; winter's start of ninety-one, Springfield was in for some change; yet was not where Jimmy found the finest team to play the game

fifty-three at one-thirteen, winter's lows at no degrees

Page ditches Ontario, gets tenured at McDougall; takes the reins of the girls' squad, wipes the floor with other schools; post-ceremony are dubbed Commercial Graduates Club; five years gone with no respite, outside world given the shove

edge before it got flattened straight, nix on romance, sucks to dates

Dorothy Daisy Connie Winnie Eleanor and Nellie winning; Shamrocks plucked and then discarded, Knits unraveled brokenhearted; but where are the biopics the books the tapes the interviews; where is the anniversary parade footage on the news

have you had Olympic gold denied to you when it was owed; six-to-one in foreign lands, earning worth with yr two hands; has yr familial pride been judged ignored and cast aside; have you vanquished all yr foes with victory sharing their woes

differences become divides, injustices endorsed with pride

can you eat sleep dream work breathe yr whole life as just one thing; can you narrow yr focus to just one point of interest; can you handle constant stress while no one cares about yr best; can you fade out completely, into nothing, not even memory

social disappearances, historical revisions

more than likely we're just dying eating sleeping multiplying; headcount numbers at the pyre will not help to increase the size of yr fire; but maybe the people near you remember and dearly miss you; so yr post-death reputation ain't empty documentation
Track Name: Piracy Funds Freedom Fighting
punctured through and ruptured as a stillborn maidenhead; stigmatic carved apart and torn with millennial dread; disparate de facto split apart in feuding clans; futures buckled failing in alignment with the plans

download queue stuffed to the gills with rarities galore; a soundtrack for walking to work while not waging the war; is there terrorism in this city to be found; the rebel youth have got the wardrobe but cannot find the sound

lifestylists find their souls are incomplete; but it's pure resources they all now deplete

仕返し そろ ズ, シベ して 暮れる

swiping some old boring riffs for some new boring songs; we're hardly la vie bohème neither rhapsodies nor gongs; you might not know how to battle though you sure got the pose; but how are you fighting for freedom in too-tight pre-torn clothes

I could be yr Osama and you'd be my Khalid; I could be yr Ian and then you could be my Guy; I could be yr Terry Nichols, you my Timothy; I could be yr Corin and then you'd be my Carrie

rolls across the toms used to be bombing runs; now pick scrapes never make me want to buy guns

其の 手 和 個

rifles shot to clear the blues; of me not being on the news
Track Name: That Should Be the Name of Yr First Solo Record
so you say you want to be my hero, never thought you were going to need a backbone; I know the future's scary but the past's regrets are bracing; while it's true you may never get what you're owed, you whine a lot for ain't never having worth shown; why do anything if nobody is watching, why be anything if no one is applauding

will this solve the polar debate (I'm a concerned citizen); will you make it back okay (maybe one of yr children); will this bring the people back in (now I'm a politician); will this venture get in the black (I'm protecting investments)

now you shift to shit, you give yr second best; as you syncopate you organize the sycophants; lying through yr teeth, you wish to unattempt; it's a poor excuse to exercise the intellect

are you sure of yr calculations, do you understand proper preparations; have you tested the ballast, are you sure that you can balance; major packing job for minor personnel doesn't seem to make any of my worries quell; just one single route you don't even know, once we're north to south how can you tell which way to go (will it be going down at snow) (or watching where the currents flow) (or wherever the wind may blow)

can't tell "the shit" from shit, string up some hollow words; a gasping ape for cred, it's more pathetic than before; congratulations void as you seem to forget; we all observed you transform trebuchets to tourniquets; we'll die here on the tundra; thanks to yr false pride and bluster; nothing left to prove as we're withering; every try we took been blown away to smithereens

wake me up when they come thaw out my bones; make me see something that makes me wish I hadn't froze

now we're in museums for the kids to see, we're on display, immodest antiquities; now we're lessons learned for the younger set, not to undertake what you aren't ready for yet; now we're photographs to remind our peers, please make certain that the evident risks are clear; now we're buried deep in some unmarked graves, only fitting after the mistakes we've made
Track Name: Tilting at Windmills
last time we spoke, our communication broke down before first terms could be met; for someone with so much on yr mind I thought you might feel something much more than upset; wouldn't be the last, wouldn't be the end of me, wouldn't be the rest, wouldn't be finished; wouldn't be the best, compared to the worst of me, remaining upright is all you should ask

less of a poet, more of a clerk; less of a liar, more like a jerk

haven't seen the worth in being reductionist, haven't done the math, can't equate the gains; couldn't find the means, can't measure the consequence, couldn't hide the blight of the circumstance; haven't covered up, all facades are trembling, another drained account, another belly swells; can't help but explain, or correctly make excuses, mapping new topography for atlases of hell

hasn't been found, can't be replaced, broken the means in all our haste; dove through the waves, hasn't been cleansed, won't be removed, not seen again
Track Name: Two Dollar Bills
every flight of fancy comes from someplace once deemed odd; by ethnocentric European culture demagogues; is it trite to make comparisons to bolts and cogs; all the boulevards have blockades, strolls have turned to slogs

everything at rest will be made to dance; every best laid plan will be left to chance

now it's lost but not forgotten, felt but out of reach; not devalued just obsolete forms of currency; name two words that churn more guts than "fiscal policy"; like there's any difference between hidden and unseen

every broken heart given new romance; every restrained force given carte blanche

bones bleached out, overexposed to the sun; maybe myths are the only frontier; rusted shut, useless broken gun; hateful as an ocean blue and clear
Track Name: Bullies for Christ
we can learn sinning from Chet if he will help us to do the waltz; we can mask the near-constant odor of brimstone with expensive sets of smelling salts

bless you for wisdom and judgment; our two most heavenly things; bless you for giving us courage; and for a reason to sing

we can take one in the hand and three in the heart and still play; we can find demons in bottles, plenty of them left to slay; we can find blame where you want it, label our own as disease; we can make rockets of racecars, transforming targets of trees; what kind of love is a taking that's steeped in low irony
Track Name: In Case There's a Trap
I will let you walk in front in case there is a trap; I wouldn't want to miss you getting caught; I will let you blaze a trail, I will let you make a name; and when it all turns to shit, I will let you take the blame

place my corpse in welcome ground if I should die today; bring me more Pacific coastlines to annihilate

I'll be worth my weight in gold

I will let you take yr time, I'll hold out for years; I will let you delist me, I too would forget that I'm here; I will let you burn me out, I can't love nor can I fear

buy me off with floats and marches, ditch recovery; insult me with travel costs and weapons maintenance fees; future planned as interviews and books shilled on TV

I'll be worth my weight in posture and courtesy, I'll be worth nothing that you would want to be; I'll be worth my weight in remorse and discipline, I'll be worth nothing of any significance

who the hell are you to say that my war has to end today; I haven't started fighting yet and that's as far as I can get
Track Name: Soldado for Loudspeakers
can a rifle make a sound that isn't somewhat ominous; if true feet will carry you then god forbid explain the rush; in sprinting away from bullets that only tag scandalous; murderers and rapists we can convict with no evidence

follow the sound, follow me down

how can there be any justice with no truth bothered dug up; how can there be any justification for what you've done; you should drop yr badges so you could be a proper lynch mob; then you could be tactless with my body when my soul is gone

my spirit carries the burdens of hopeful, Panama to the Mason-Dixon Line; I will be cursed, I will be damned, for the failures of the "civilized"

please understand that I didn't die so you could achieve a blessing for schemes; do not pray to me, don't resurrect me, unless you're prepared to wipe the slate clean