We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Carousel

by Dad's Typewriter

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

  • pdf file containing essays about each song in Carousel, by Dad's Typewriter.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Carousel via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $1 USD or more 

     

1.
I don't know what I could say that might change The mind of the right. Ideologies strain. But thinking and feeling feels suddenly strange On the day after election day Well they'll treat me with kindness, I'm white and I'm straight. But I know not what shelters My way from our way. Just that it's all for each other. We have to relate. Ah, but this is no phase. And I'm genuinely afraid. Oh, wicked resolvers Won't play and can't wait To turn what is true Into chemical waste. You who martyred a ten-year-old To slink at the gate. When they scream kill, I Always lose sight Of everything off stage. We're off-script. I've lost my place. So I can't tell anyone to live for the day. When I'm just a singer with words, but no way To make sense of the day... All the days after election day
2.
Nobody knows. Nobody cares. Just walk after nine And escape up the stairs. Put on a record; Dissolve into the air. Become one with the music As you write out all your fears. It's the best thing. No, it's just the next thing... It's the next best next thing. It's the nights when you stay up too late When you know it's the morning you encapsulate. And it's the haze of the dawn When you're writing your songs When you're still just a little asleep, Writing the pens of their ink. Do you think that it's cold Or warm on the road? As you forgo all classic mystique. And you're bribing yourself not to smoke in the street As you fall into the grass beneath your best friend: That haunted oak tree. Is it haunted? Hey, Do you feel okay? Oh my. My angel calling forth. Ah, Ladder Song can't calm your nerves Since you're running off with a dancer. Like an apple, sweet inside and outside, her. So you devour it whole. No throwing of cores. Trees treating teeth like they're nothing but teeth. Nor a casual plea. But, of course. So following your idle path: An artist, fervent, and full of the last Dreams of a moment delivering cash into hand. Well, you're a man of diction and dash. And you revile decisions, complete and relaxed. So what do we make of the leaves? Are they browning and falling too far into spring? Or are you just walking to see The world after nine in the evening? Nobody knows. No.
3.
Angel on the street corner laughing. Saving all the film of the starlings, And shaping her wings Like they were from casual flings Instead of divinity passing. She's a mighty thing; A wild and rotten thing. Just open your lungs and sing, my love. I'll tell you all the words of... All the words of... A penance on the article clamors. Oh, beast of burdens, you're bitching; Your canopies stammer Out from tongues outstretched instead of Lighting incense and candles, And clearing the scandals from The air of the hammered stench of Olympic rings Or classified dreams leaked. When you're... When you're in the airport sleeping. I bought a pen for two dollars And I'm writing on napkins. Thanks for asking how I've been. You know I love to talk, kid. And besides, what's inside is dying to live Next to a band and four-part harmonics. Or least some attention for these guitar licks. Oh I know that they're both right in time. When you're in the airport sleeping, Wonder why are you in the airport sleeping. It seems like you're alone. And when you're alone... When you're alone, you see the ghosts. When you're alone, you see an angel on the wing and she's laughing. No she's not.
4.
Well I studied Quoth The Raven And imagined it could fly. And realized it had no purpose But to live and to die. And in my own life, I've seen the fathers lie. And I've watched one try To bridge the space between two sides. So when the world dries up And the seasons shift, Reminding us of... Curb yourselves. Just watch the holes in your shoes And the soles start to rub. So move. And move. And move. And move to New York City, child. And go wild. This life is crazy. This life? It ain't easy. Take your time. And stop eating meat. In time... Move to New York City, child.
5.
Disassemble your thinking - Real and profound - To the interception of wishing And knowing the sound Of rain on the windows. Smoke on the roof Until time passes by With your watch stopped on truth - The truth of a situation. A calm ease of condemnation. And nobody knows That the water flows And speaks up; Turns the dial from their station, And onto your own child. To listen, alone, child. So passing the joint And hitting it down As the crutch sits, As my sides split And my arms shift And my eyes drift. Now I'm laughing And seeing the ornamental crown Sitting atop the head, round. And around and around and around In Washington Square. Where it elicits no stares. But follows the shots of your cigarette's glare: The lightness of burning from the filter to the tip. Where the cherry sits And the herbs split And the smoke drifts And my eyes shift. Now I've been... No, I've had to have said this before. That now, I'm asleep on the floor.
6.
Empty Seats 02:59
Discipline your differences; The light for which to see it. I'm away now. And only if you mean it, Will I turn to speak it. Open doors now. And though these minutes make up Days to days, It is the seconds that escape now. I'm wide awake now. And precisely where's my mind Depicted through my eyes? Oh, I see enemies where friends used to be. And vice versa. We... We belong to empty seats In a theatre. I could get you all in for free. So try to remind yourself That kindness can And reason can Be the only things that stand. No no no I don't know. But it seems to me That the only thing Standing in the way of singing Is your pocketbook And your money-clip that bum took. So discipline your differences And see them with your eyes. Oh, and live long.
7.
Dispositions handed in the mind of criminals Attacking front doors, or the window by the ocean floor. Said the only difference is that they can offer more. But not more, in a sense. Like I said, just a little different. So the bass dissolves to humming And the drums are draggin' back. My words are drowned out by my own guitar's attack. But I know that it is all needed. No one needs another harmonica rack, Or a man all alone in a ten-gallon hat. It's the opinion of a police state. Just a nervous tick of insanity's fate. I took the last track To have the last laugh. And in the pocket of my slacks... In fact, it's the only way You can make my dignity sway. So take my words out of my mouth, onto a plane. Revolve all you can. Recall the better haze. My first mate? She's a doll. And I'm the ankle weight. So dissolve your paranoia like it's never understood To be the classic depiction of a rabid Robin Hood. To steal from the big boys... Make them know you really should Have given dimes or given time To at least the folks in their neighborhood. That's where they could've made Their own mistakes, And never rapped. Forever good. No, always... No, always...
8.
Such a Night 03:33
It's such a night. We're rolling across the ocean standing upright. It's like we glide. It's such a night. We're falling in real love this time. And so, the Right followed our lives outside. That said, to reach as far back in history as you can reach, And tell me I can't see That it's good for you And bad for me And catastrophic for the majority... It's such a night. We drink until the morning light, And write down our minds With a pen we dipped in turpentine. To dry out my eyes And laugh like it's all a lie, Watching men deny their fellow Man crying. It's only a party And You are not the We. We weren't invited, see? And the wine is drinking fine. But I try to at least treat myself right. Seems like everyone else should fall in line. But it's such a night: Like a movie you keep rewinding 'Cause it makes you cry In all the ways a movie tries. With sorrow and grief, To laughter and teeth Displayed proudly for all to see That it's such a night. It's such a night. It's such a night... Good morning.
9.
Oh darlin', it's just a thunderstorm. Don't be scared. It's quite normal for this time of year. Or is it? It's but February, isn't it? And each and every day I try each and anyway To claim That I'm doing anything But paying attention. I'm just not one to march in parades. A soul's instinct is to yell and be brave. And I ain't. No, I ain't. And I've nothing pointed to say that I can profess In a hundred eighty characters or less. And the president respects Just that he's the actual, living, elected president. But a tool to be blessed By satan's own caress. My heart is skipping beats. My soul hurts literally. And darlin' what do I see? Darlin' who are we? And what do we wanna be? What do we wanna be?
10.
Take a blue sky And shield it from your eyes As the snow flies. Where's it coming from? There are no clouds, Yet freezing rain is falling down. And the same old sounds Are eating at my mind. There's a red snake; A quarter-century's resting place For a bad day Now drifting with the moon. I'm a dream song That you forget when you wake up. Something begs fate the way I do. I'm a cold breeze You wish would up and cease. I'm a smoker's wheeze. My lungs are coughing up. Now I can't see. Seems the sign you hold Says rest in peace. My mind speaks A similar truth as you. So where we goin'? Why can't I escape, child? Escape child. To everything you're trying to find In a upwards climb. Are we the best again? When were we the best again? So I'm a bold shout; A pessimist who's fallin' out. I'm an old doubt You're still clinging onto. Can you not see these basic truths? They come to me. And my histories may repeat. They often do. It's a freeway stretching forth and back for days. It's a trying age. The only thing that loves. As my heart breaks for a country never finding its grace. Just an empty haze of smoke and flames and glitter bombs. So I can say That four arms help me masturbate. It's a funny thing, these glasses and this beard. I'm a Roald Dahl. The ocean's just a parking lot. I'm a worse call amidst it all. So where we goin'? Where we goin'? Why can't I escape, child, From everything you're trying to find In an upwards climb. Are we the best again? When were we the best again?
11.
Curtain Call 02:53
(Instrumental)

about

Dad's Typewriter is:

Michael McGuire
and
Allie Tsubota

Recorded at Some Would Consider Studios
Queens, New York

McGuire, 2017
What's Next Records, 2017

credits

released September 9, 2017

*Sounds you're hearing were made from either an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, a bass guitar, a harmonica, a suitcase, a tambourine, often with brushes, metal sticks on a desk, a man's voice, a woman's voice.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Dad's Typewriter New York, New York

Dad's Typewriter is the name of a band that is only a few people, none of whom will ever again release an album with the name Dad's Typewriter. Trust me. Otherwise, all of the everything on these two releases is just really good music shoddily recorded in bedrooms, living rooms, and kitchens. ... more

contact / help

Contact Dad's Typewriter

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Dad's Typewriter, you may also like: