Cull Shorts

by Girlfriends

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Kept the other kids in the dark to eat around the bad parts, knowing it backwards and forwards. Culled a creeping paranoia about our freak scene’s perestroika in darkened corners. ‘Cause we know all the songs so we own all the songs and we’re at home in backseats, asleep or wasted. We’re all gone. Seventeen is all you need to get yourself some kinda speed, get panicked and sick as we ignore the pride that would destroy us and the diseases that enjoyed us— newborn stupid; we’ve got the hubris to do this. We’re embittered, thickly settled where all the pots attack the kettles.
Our charming city’s so fun to get lost in, squirming with vermin and the Cave Kids of Boston. Plenty to go around—in the shadows, on the ground. Plenty to be found—all around and underground. We ain’t pissing our drainpipes for slow dimes (slow dimes), we can find what we need when the time’s right. They use it and we lose it, but we don’t give in— we’d rather ruin what was given by the system we live in. We underachieve and live below our means and can’t get to sleep cos we have oversized dreams. When their consolation pries open your eyes, and they say youre better off dead but you aint ready to die; only the spineless are timeless, baby, you just wanna have fun with the Cave Kids of Boston.
We’re not unemployed, we’re just men of leisure waiting on a handout from this gov’t seizure To make honest men of bankers, we know, all you needs some guns: you can hand ‘em over or you can shoot ‘em, it’s the same either one. Now we’re broke and we’re angry, ready to make some enemies, nothing to say to no one. If we’re the unwashed masses, then what’s happened in the D.O.C? I dunno if it’s blood but I’m damn sure that no one’s hands are clean They put their foot in their mouth, head in sand, and try to run away. Kid, I ain’t no doctor, but I’m not sure that it works that way. Who’s speaking truth to power till justice flows like water when they got nothing to say? The Census came calling I said ‘Hey man, what’s this all about?’ Said ‘I’m not sure we matter, so I dunno why we should count.’ Ask any citizen-soldier how he knows who’s who. As for truth, the best that you can do is hope that someone votes like he shoots.
We were born into homes our parents found. No one can blame us for eating our way out. Now I’ve fallen, and I can’t give up. I want to know why and how it happened. Even Saturn kept his halo, or at least his rings, when devouring his children. But things are different now—I just can’t keep em down. I keep throwing up, spitting, vomiting while offing my offspring. It’s not what I wanted. What I wanted was to never fall at all, but they said it’s over.
Some things are too good to be true. Some kids are just laughing at you; the things that you do when you try to prove you might be cool too. Some kids are too good to be true. So dust off your empathy kid ‘cause it’s all coming down. and i’m not sure you’ll want to be found when it’s all around— get to higher ground, they’ve let loose the hounds. I’m not sure you’ll want to be found. I won’t forget/I don’t get what you did. Those lessons you’ve been getting in just ‘keeping it hid’ from your big kid friends? They’re not doing shit— you know how this ends. I’m not your big kid friends.
Redress yourself and dig the right corpses— you’re holding your horses are they dead enough for you to beat in 4/4? Or are you ‘proto-motorik’? Flexing your new lexicon. Put a better sweater on. And in most circles there’s nothing wrong with it— it’s just pretty songs by pretty people and it’s tough for me to give a shit. Have I failed hedonistic calculus? Am I heart-over-brain from cradle to grave? What you mean to say is ‘have you no heart?’ What you mean to say is ‘we care a lot’ but you say ‘they’re great,’ and they say theyre not, it’s so intimate and crude, you know. How did you clone a drone? It’s not light scattered sparks of light. There’s a nod to the mystical that’s like a kick in the testicle. The same bands play the same shows every night. And we’re taking bets on who’s nearest the spirit. I might need to be saved, ‘cause i’m a fairy. So clap your hands (like this) ‘cause if you fail to believe in me, I’ll simply cease to exist.
Feeling fixed and de-clawed, like the room is dog-eat-dog. it’s not your fault; I’m high as a christ. You’ve gone to find yourself, sleazing ‘cross the commonwealth. In secret, you know who you are: You’re made of the people you use and discard. And we’ll always love you, but you’re making it hard to. Our destruction is mutually-assured: I’ve waved the bloody shirt once or twice, filthy with envy of the hollow little victories you sell me to try and make nice. A parasite for sore eyes when you boast of your host, to abandon our past as ancient ruins us both. I feel like your ghost.
All bites and scratches, battened hatches. Down and out and down the spout in a spiderland I met a girl, to my surprise, said I’m damaged goods, she said ‘so am I’ so I held her hand. I’m not sure where she found strength to care; the things that would bleed us dry seemed to multiply. All bites and stings on phantom limbs we used to hold what we used to hold, hope we’re smarter now. The past, you can trust, will fuck you up. But hang onto love, it’ll be enough to save you somehow. If drowned, i’ll be renewed, sweet thing— I’ll return to you again each spring. ‘cause death is only a fact and that don’t mean anything.
Say that an ‘I’ for an ‘I’ makes the whole world ‘yours’ and ‘mine’. Hey, I found that touching so I touched it now my palms went hairy, I’m blind. Poor creature is havin a fit—ooh—one trick pony of gin and I’m used for glue, so feed my flesh to the world and use my bones for soup. I’m under video surveillance though I scream ‘dont shoot!’ Shit-for-brains-washed-up, now I’m taking a hit (for my crew). Even the rats know to jump the ship (nothing new). Old boy, I just do what I do and I do. And when I play what I play am I just playing the fool? (playing the fool) Am I hungry for approval or for something to prove? (and I do) It ain’t right, I lost my appetite, too fed-up to move, but I do.
Lyrics? Clearly we have no fucking clue.


Tracks 1 and 2 appear on the Cave Kids 7", released March 2011 on Black Bell Records. Tracks 3 and 4 appear on the Gov't Seizure 7", released July 2010 on Aurora 7 Records. Tracks 5 and 10 appear on the Good To Be True digital single, released March 2010 through AmpEater Music. Tracks 6, 8, and 9 appear on the self-titled cassette, released December 2009 on Floating Garbage Continent. Track 7 previously unreleased. Cull Shorts was released 4/28/12 on Cake Time.


released April 28, 2012

Tracks 1-5, 7, and 10 recorded January and February 2010 by Jerry MacDonald at The Shop (RIP) in Weymouth, MA. Track 6 recorded October 2009 by Freddy Hamel at Dog Job in Belmont, MA. Tracks 7 and 8 recorded October 2009 by Andy and Girlfriends at Andy's Mom's Basement Studios in Belmont, MA. All songs Mastered by Emeen Zarookian.

All songs written by Ben Potrykus except "The Day I Was a Horse" by Eugene Kelly and Frances McKee, used with permission from Domino Publishing Co of America. Girlfriends on these recordings was Andy Sadoway, Jen Dowty, and Ben Potrykus. Layout and design by Supriya Gunda and Ben Potrykus. So long, and thanks for all the shorts.


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Girlfriends Boston, Massachusetts

A pop group from Boston, MA

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