Tumbling Down the Up Escalator

by Hey Girl Slow Down

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1.
02:51
2.
04:16
3.
4.
03:49
5.
03:05

about

the soundtrack to your quarter-life crisis

credits

released July 2, 2017

Produced and engineered by Jon Markson
Mastered by Mike Kalajian

Hey Girl Slow Down is:

Jake Goldin - vocals/guitar
Cory Haberman - vocals/bass
Mike Bogdanowicz - guitar
Steve Ranellone - drums

Also featuring:
Jon Markson - additional guitar/vocals
Mori Einsidler - vocals
Sam Palumbo - vocals

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license

all rights reserved

about

Hey Girl Slow Down New York, New York

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Osw6JuGZL3Q

Watch the video for "happy" at the link above, and download the song for free on Bandcamp or Soundcloud!

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Track Name: holy moly
We’ll bury our nerves
Outside the suburbs
‘Cause that would be too close to home
I’m just no fun just for fun
I put the “cunt” in “contrarian”
And if the glass is half-full
That just means I’m not done

What’s wrong with you kids?
Why can’t you do shit
Without getting your hearts broken?
"En garde, ennui! Je suis l’enfant terrible!"
Oh, merci!
I’m not your bro
But sure, I’ll take a bump, though

You’ll end up like some Peter Panhandler
Folks will pinch their noses when they pass
When the neighbor kids get bored they’ll cover you in trash
When they get drunk they’ll just kick your ass

Repetition bores us!
Abuse that thesaurus!
Though you should probably hit a dictionary
Would you believe? God has called on me!
To call out sick with something make believe
Delusion, every allusion to the books you never read in high school

You’ll end up like Alexander Supertramp
Dead in a van in the woods someplace
You’ll pick poison berries and stuff your face
And shit out your last breath ‘cause you had something to say

I’m not a burnout, I am an artist

These white boys are all the same
They think they’re so clever
Like the coolest thing you could do
Is say “fuck” on a record
But that’s not true
That’s not the coolest thing you could do
The coolest thing you could do
Is probably say “cunt” on a record

I’m not a burnout
I am an artist
Track Name: happy
You couldn’t find the right words
When really any words were right
For the gag reel when your life
Flashes before your eyes

What are you doing?
That’s fucking weird, what are you doing?

Can we please talk about the weather?
Or how to link files in Excel?
Anything we won’t remember
‘Cause we remember if you do

I couldn’t find the right words
But I got your message
I just don’t like the subtext
I don’t like what comes next

And you will never be happy again
And you can never be happy again
You can try all that you like
Dark thoughts will keep you up all night
And you will never be happy again

Take it to your grave
I bet you’ll take it to your bed
And every morning when you wake
You’ll be spooning with your regret

Do you remember?
Now’s as good a time as ever
When you couldn’t hold your drink
And you were such a dick?

And you will never be happy again
And you can never be happy again
And every simile for shame
Will crawl like spiders to your brain
And you will never be happy again

And maybe if you’re lucky
Then maybe everybody
Will just think that you’re high
Your memory doesn’t serve
So much as drag you to the curb
For every public disturbance
It’s okay to be nervous
‘Cause you’re only human
Just not to them

And you will never be happy again
And you can never be happy again
You can try all that you like
You’ll miss out and then you’ll die
And you will never be happy again
Track Name: don't tell me i'm pretty
I keep my limbs in this pile
I hoard excuses in stacks until they flatten cats
And I’ve been tuning the dials on my pillowcase
Trying to fast forward to the good part
Wait for the twist, miss all the good parts
To end my day early, preferably before it starts,
I just put whatever in my blood

They said you can’t get addicted to pot
I must’ve forgot
My short term memory’s not good
You can’t get addicted to pot
Well, why not?
Don’t tell me what I can’t do

Then I brought home some free weights,
Like hanging posters in a cage
Just taking up space
I give myself too much leeway
Except in my head and my health
And how I talk to myself

Turns out that bud don’t got all that much to do with Buddhism
But sometimes I like to pretend, and I get pretty zen
And I try a guided meditation on self-compassion

They said to pick something to love
Didn’t matter what it was
Didn’t matter if you’re even good at it
Just pick something to love
“What’s so great about drugs?”
What’s so great about anything?
And they said you can’t get addicted to pot
Probably not
I don’t wanna argue right now
I just want something to love more than myself
Even when that’s not a high standard

Every day is a day God dropped,
Held up to Himself and He picked the hairs off
Like, “It’s still good, you can help yourself!
And if you want help, you can help yourself!”
I never learned how to help myself
So I’m refusing the call, I’ll pace the equator
And I don’t get service there, I’ll talk to you later
I’m tumbling down the up escalator
Then I will try to find and and realign my spine
Too little, too late this time
See you never

I just want something to love more than myself
Even when that’s not a high standard
Track Name: calluses
Took a couple years to turn my weaknesses to strengths
Took a few more years to learn that that makes no goddamn sense
I write pros and cons until my fingers get all callused
You hold my hand, I read your palm
I read your tarot, you think it’s magic
But it’s just rote, it’s just practice
It just comes with practice

I’m not even trying anymore
Dig a hole and let nature run its course
‘Cause nothing comes as naturally to me as hiding, or you
Rotten floorboards ripped from the front porch
While you were out someplace chasing storms
Let’s see how far you’ll dig
You’ll just get calluses

I hate having opinions, I wish my true colors were grey
Dressing up my skeletons to put them on display
You feel my palm, you feel my fingertips and my calluses
And you laugh and you say that I’m talented
But that’s just practice
Plaster my lips in vinyl and I’ll spin and I’ll spin
You can dig me all the way to China
You’ll just get calluses

Suppose sometime in some past life, I must have been an escape artist
Who boasted he could hold his breath for 5 whole minutes
But it was probably less
Track Name: alvin
My Jiminy follows me
Stumbling drunkenly between
Confession and catty remark
Like a desperate white girl on New Year’s Eve
Wanna know my secret?
I’m the Hulk of sadness
I got whiskey dick of the soul
I let a drug addict cover for my self-control

So it’s the least I could do
For all the people I’ve hurt
And all the people I’ve yet to

If you don’t say you love me, I’ll fucking kill myself
If you say that you love me, I’ll need it from someone else
If you don’t accept my apology, I’ll probably kill myself
Just so you know

I like to make myself believe
In some cosmic symmetry
Where every asshole move is just more lube
For the other end of the karma machine
And maybe I’m just a gear
I know I’m not who I’ve been
But if we are what we do - well, the truth is
I haven’t really done much since

And when I catch what I’m long overdue for
I wonder whom
Will that be good news for?

We can hardly stand the wait
We can hardly stand
We can hardly stand the wait
We can hardly stand

Ba baaaaaa!!!
Ba baaaaaaa!!!
This is the sound of getting beat up in a bar fight