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Captain Three Leg / Wadge

by Captain Three Leg / Wadge

/
1.
Bust out the chisels Drag down the scar Open the old wound Froth up the bar Staining the tiki Deep seeps the blood Watch as it animates All that you are More than feeling Hard to describe You’re in or you’re out Dead or alive This one Marquesan The next just may be From Rapa Nui Or old Hawai’i Suffering bastard hanging low Off the wall, straight to the rum they go Sanded dong girth smooth like King Kong
2.
Warriors of Tiki unchained to rule the night Samoans and Hawaiians join to do it fucking right Guzzling the strongest sarce Show all who’s the fucking Barse Like beef? Moke buss dem chops Say goodbye to eye, cyclops Tiki merchants stand in moonlight with detailed clubs of war Soils of the islands shake - run for the hut and fucking quake
3.
You’ve got a head now gimme it Lop it off your shoulders, don’t throw a fit Lost art coming back in my basement I call boss what they call defacement Take one cranium and peel the wrap Sew the eyes, sew the lips of some sap Boil it and treat it to some heated stone Now I’m never gonna be alone Walls display covered my army of heads Decked out in armor to battle the feds No one can stop us we’re ready to die On miniature ponies into glory ride With MANOWAR blasting triumphant our fight Spikes, steel and arrows on this righteous night My legion of little heads shrunken to form Victory lies in the eye of the storm
4.
What’s that smell, fucking hell Hippies on the beach We surf, off our turf You goddamn scum! Bang your drums all day long Pot-addled grin Here’s a fistbow for your troubles Put that in your bong Patchouli is burning and my stomach’s churning Think I’m gonna puke Adding deep red to your tie-dyed shirt Here comes the leiomano Cowering, whining, blubbering, screaming As blows beat down the plague Get back to the jungle to hide in your tree house Get off the beach! You fucking hippy
5.
1941, USS West Virginia Ariel torpedoes racing like steel shark Dropped into the water to ignite their cremation Ripping right through as if made out of tin Abandon ship All who can Say goodbye To life and limb But three men didn’t make it off Although they breathed in tact For sixteen days they lived submerged Sixteen days to be For sixteen days to contemplate A slow and lingering death Their clanging cries did not go unheard Nothing could be done
6.
Absolute glimpglod overlords With vintage mugs and not an ounce of fun You might as well be Pokemon obsessed Know-it-all geeks reigning this little world You nerds! Although I may love what you collect That doesn’t mean that you deserve my respect You schmucks! Tiki snobs, fuck off!
7.
In the dead of night as the full moon glows All the surfers race to the beach in throes Grab their boards and get ready for the coming beast Like a mountain of liquid death With a tiki pendant around the neck Paddles out into the fury catching much respect There it builds, here it comes, frothing at the mouth North Shore, scream gore like Chuck Rise onto thy feet Too late to retreat Jaw now opens wide Swallowed whole inside Deafening thunder, sucked in and spit Projectile of flesh quickly losing all shit Mano circle and race trailing flames Almost get buss’ up by da kapu ride Fluid embers, scorching steam Schizzo surf, molten cube to gleam
8.
(chorus) Self-improvement out of reach A goal that's unachievable Failed attempts at excellence Disappointing one and all I try to be a better listener Drifting into space Failed attempts at excellence And falling on my face (chorus) Eliminate distractions Free up time for something more But, I'm drinking beer and smoking While I should be playing guitar Purple bracelets ordered From a world free of complaints But complaining more than ever Never bringing on a change
9.
Combing through the thrift stores Snatching up discarded tapes Let's find a band and do a split Five minutes on each side Printing out new labels Slap them on and sell as new Bands sit back and have a laugh Their releases piling high You care more about the format Than the music it contains Releasing thirty copies So it sells out in a day Lathes replacing proper runs So scarcity's attained Special covers printed All hand-numbered for your tests Sell them all on eBay use that cash to fund the press Count me out (x4)
10.
Blast away and never aim Just spray with no regrets If you're a Ms., you'll sit in piss That toilet seat's a mess The soap dispenser's empty And the trash is overfilled Wipe, flush, wash & leave
11.
Alleviating boredom with wholesome family fun Packing up the kids and taking them to the park Bleached white flour, corn syrup and dyes Your choice of food leads to their demise Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes Garlic bread in hand Scores of birds gobbling up The Junk these monsters throw Warnings from the DNR Insisting that we stop Or it's type II diabetes As their sugar levels grow Packing on weight Too fat to get off the ground
12.
Driving down a gravel road And hauling stolen meat A loaded-down truck With what I'm guessing could be beef Beard-a-swingin', pits-a-stinkin' Giving his best pitch Then the Amish people clean him out A deal they can't resist Stomachs cramp while sweating buckets Dropped down to their knees Lack of refrigeration Takes it's toll on graying meat Bloody stools-a-plenty As e.coli virus spreads The meat truck driver exists town His pockets lined with bread
13.
Pink slime and cellulose Artificially enhanced Plastic wrapped chicken parts With breasts pumped full of water Not so much food, as much as steaming piles of shit There's watered-down nutrition on our plates
14.
Scoping the clubs for beav' Making a splash in the swinger's scene "A round of drinks for the babes" A mustache free of irony Is growing on your face Tar-stained fingers and paedo-glasses Rounding out your look The 70s have came and gone But no one told you so So, here you sit, stuck in time Oblivious to change Shave that fucking mustache off your face
15.
You're stuck in a rut And you're ready for change You've been playing for years And have a name that's well-known Side-projects form Reflecting your change in tastes But none of them are good enough To stand on their own Drumming up sales by way of association "Featuring members of so-and-so band" A new band forms for each style of music Designing logos that all look the same Your solo project evolves into something else So you break up the band only to start another Now you've got five of them under your belt Soon you'll be doing splits with your own bands Too scared to take chances with the music you play Just start releasing everything under one fucking name
16.
All-girl mosh pit Baby doll tees and tattered jeans All-girl mosh pit A median age of seventeen Aqua Net and estrogen Mixing in with sweat Flabby arms and limp wrists Push against young, supple breasts Voices raised while pumping fists A frenzied, nubile bunch Falls just short of cat fight In my pants an awkward lump
17.
(instrumental)

about

MORT:100 / UA024 / ATWAR152

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released November 10, 2015

Tracks 1-7 = WADGE

Recorded & mixed at Tiny Bubbles Studio & Shave Ice Stand. Massturd by Randall. Additional vocals by Randall. Thanks to C3L and the labels for the CD release.

Cover art by Tabu.

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Tracks 8-17 = CAPTAIN THREE LEG

Andy - Guitar, Bass, Vocals + "Stone"
Brian - Drums + Vocals
Nate - Vocals
(Paul - Vocals on #5, Andrew - Vocals on #6)

Recorded June 21st, 2013 on a Fostex XR-7 Multitracker with additional overdubs done on Reaper. Mastered by Stumblefuck at Hundskit Studios.

Cover art by Tom Kemp.

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Limited to 300 CD version available from:

At War With False Noise (awwfn.bandcamp.com)
Unholy Anarchy (unholyanarchyrecords.bandcamp.com)
Mortville Noise (mortvillenoise.bandcamp.com)

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