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Miami Beach Bodega (2016)

by fuguers cove

Met him at a place on Washington St. A little smoked bodega with bingo machines C’mon babe, let’s hit the waves Flipflops smelling like aftershave Yolo with one foot in the grave But that’s okay The gulls got off The stars got bright The drunks got drunk And the single light All right
They waved so long to the weeping trees Saw the wetness creep into squirming parts Found a love worth buying but the cost was too much Seventies charm Gonna black out the lampshades Tropical farm Gonna burn out the rampage Did a funny dance when their name was signed Now the thing is gone and the lot’s resigned From a plastic Florida Marlin glass And tell stories about woulda coulda
Gray as shit with the windows down And we’re making time in our minds Building castles outta lies we circumscribe A pair of dice might get us outta this jam Alabama traffic Alabama traffic Dont’ be so dramatic Hawaiians in the static Just make it to the trace (x2) Alabama traffic jam Alabama traffic jam Just make it to the trace (x2)
70s wack on the avenue Gotta a Cadillac And a parvenu Gotta sack in the back Filled with citrus fruit Gonna head down One Till the road is done Find a bungalow In the fucking sun Read a magazine Catch the 10:00 news Write 100 songs Drink away the blues Write 100 songs Drink away the blues (x4)
Gonna dig em out Down in Homestead Gonna rage it up Down at Missle One Gonna cry it out At the spice park Gonna burn our eyes out Had a lot to live for but you fucked it up Gonna dig em out Down in Homestead Gonna rage it up Down at Missle One Gonna cry it out At the spice park Gonna burn our eyes out Looking at the stars Wipe that smile from your face The bay ain’t gonna fix yer flub The palms are sick sad fuckers in a pickup truck
Left DG a 1000 years ago Washed up on a beach In blue indigo Palm fronds gave a speech So I suppose It’s time to return To the land where I loved And I lost Where you held my hand And told me the things That made me the man that I am
I bought a bouquet near the army base And fought off gnarly traffic to bestow you with the riches Trembling artisans Gotta a front row seat with destiny A rib-eyed pirouette they make A fabric out of peels Can’t you see? Can’t you feel? How these derelicts make love necessity?
The Cost 01:07
He Threw Up 02:21
Golden weirdos pasting glue At the craft bizaare Seven witches casting spells don’t know who they are But who are we? He threw up lemonade At the nicotine stand We tried to get back, get back, get away from every thing we had Took a piss in the bay Took a roll in the hay Sipped the kool-aid and hey, This is where I am


released June 25, 2016

Justin: words & music

Recorded at Pine Cone Studio West in the Girard LIbrary with the Tascam DP-008 EX


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fuguers cove Albuquerque, New Mexico

fuguers cove is communist garage rock. We are always working on their next ten albums.



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