Fücking 9​/​11

by Roy Ivy

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1.
03:07
2.
03:59

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released September 11, 2011

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Roy Ivy Chicago, Illinois

Before moving to Chicago, Roy Ivy was a choirboy for The Polyphonic Spree and the drunken oaf leader of the perpetually doomed The Tah-Dahs.

But after a move to Chicago and a heinous divorce, he began compulsively writing and sloppily recording the songs you're hearing on Bandcamp.

"Imagine Jonathan Richman going to the dark side and stealing your drink. That's Roy Ivy"

– David Fricke
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Track Name: The Shit
I was underneath the towers
When the first one hit
I had to take a shit so bad
But doors were locked
on every block
I had to take a shit so bad
The second one hit
On the times square screen
And the jumbotrons wept quietly
And down the street the people screamed
some people though it was the Chinese

and you and me
are in this shit together
and everybody is in this shit together


I finally found a bar
And I crapped cigars
And I mighta screamed "Semper Fi"
Wall street widows bought me sake bombs
and they cried and cried and cried
my teenage brooklyn art school girlfriend
was out donating blood
and just for once in my stinking life
I didn't give a damn about love

and you and me are in the shit together

I hated that goddamn president
When he was my goddamned governor
But I had faith that people could smell bullshit
Bullshit
Christians used to be good folks
And liberals used to get the joke
But on that day the whole world became bullshit
Bullshit

Bah-damp ba baddumpa

When I got back home to texas
Everybody was concerned
But mostly they were jealous of me
Cuz I got to smell the buildings burn
And I secretly wish they'd attack again
Cuz I miss the adrenaline
It's a lousy thing to say
But I feel that way
This country's got it coming

Cause Rupert Murdoch raped our folks
While they were drunk on grief
Now nothings more despicable
Than the thought of Christianity
Those dupes weren't always dupes
But they all got duped just the same
Amazing how its upside down
Cause of a couple of fucking planes
Track Name: The Hole
Those pants are so dirty
it's good that you're here.
I know you'd rather be home drinking beer.
You get cold and wet,
your mind's fogged and unclear,
official sponsor of the NFL.
Your smoke casts no shadow
it's hard to take time
to find a friend in Jesus or to get words to rhyme,
but winter is waning and fall will fall fine
in the space between heaven and hell.

The Silverado's the color of cartoon plantains.
Naughty children scream and ghost all rattle the chains
on the tires on your truck, but here it only rains
and it rains and it rains and it pours.
Give that poor child some Cheetos,
he ain't fat enough yet
it's a hunger that he's never ever gonna forget.
Your shoes match your pants and your belt and your debt, so I hope that they open some doors.

It's a Saturday.
Let's all go to the fair.
Eat fucking funnel cakes,
line up and stare
at a hole in the ground
something used to be there
but it hasn't been there for a while.
There ain't no law that says
that you ain't gotta chance
of getting filthy rich
and finding romance
if you don't, blame it all on circumstantial circumstance.
make a face that resembles a smile.

I saw a hundred thousand people all covered in debris,
all walking due north for their chance to be free
From the sighs on their face it was easy to see
it was the very worst day of their lives.
but there isn't a thing that can touch you and I,
we'll hold on to each other as the days ramble by.
Together we'll live and together we'll die,
it's so much better than husbands and wives.