Get all 21 Luna Moth releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Wavelength / L.S.D. (The Pretty Things), Sirena, Who's Gonna Love You/When California Caught on Fire (Single), Bummer Love / Futures (Single), (Don't Stop) the Moonlight (Single), Trees Casting Shadows EP, El Sol, The Serpent Stone, and 13 more.
1. |
Dancing to Ramones
02:57
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Me and my baby are gonna have a real good time tonight, I can't wait to get home.
Cause when that record starts to spin, it's gonna make the world alright...we're dancing to Ramones.
Suddenly, the war is over, nobody goes hungry and volcanoes don't explode.
and we don't need no government and we don't need no money cause we're dancing to Ramones.
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2. |
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My heart's sitting at the side of the road, and oh I gotta get it back you know before it explodes all over everything I love and everybody I know until the neighborhood is covered up with blood from the blow.
My brain's rolling up the side of a hill until it finds itself a spot to watch the world go to hell,
well I yell for it to come and get back into my head, but it runs away and jumps into the gutter instead, I said.
Belle, believe I'm laughing all the way to the banks of floods.
I will sing until the world's indifferent and I will scream until my lungs are filled with blood.
My tongue's hanging from a telephone pole, It's got a staple through the center to be certain it holds above a city full of people who will never get old because the music is their medicine, religion, and gold.
My soul's surfing on the crest of a wave and man, it looks as though it's been awhile since he has shaved, and well I yell for him to come and get back into my chest, but he flies away and falls into a dumpster instead, I said.
Well the old man says I'm drinking way too much, well I don't think so-I can still remember every single day.
Well take me to the liq, you know I ned something sweet to help me chase my blues and my clichés away...
Well that old trash fairy hit the road, finally found herself a way..
Well that wretched cherub hit the road, finally found himself a face.
Well I turned green as soon as I got free, grew some leaves and limbs, died as soon as wintertime decide but oh, when spring arrived, I was alive again!
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3. |
Dark Grey Daze
03:07
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The cat's in the corner of the hornet's hive next apart(part of the city where the rain never drains)ment.
Your eyes turn to silver dollar Salvador Dali art (art where the symbolism tends to refrain) from its cathartic capacity for killing the pain, and now we're dangling again along a chain arranged of dark grey days.
If I'm a bad Russian novel filled with revolutionary clichés (existential drivel, drunken character flaws), then you're a cat in a tree, the fire squadron is on its way (away with your sharp teeth, away with your claws). Along with all other urgencies, we'd wait it away, now the emergency's delayed along a highway paved with dark grey days.
Get up! Get up! The sun is shining! The neighborhood is not so grey! The summertime arrives to brighten our dark grey days.
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4. |
We Are the Shiveries
03:15
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Close down your colored doors and sing me to your misty moors and follow all the flaws that cause a plague of frogs to flood the floor.
My hovercraft was sore from all the times we hit the floor, but since I got it fixed I thought the shocks were hot and sent for more.
My heart was aching for a masochistic metaphor before the break began to shake and making all my bones to sawdust from the dusky darkling scars across the scarlet sky where Venus (Aphrodite) writes her lovely lines to save us all.
Cut the catapult lines (your tongue). Your words have hurled me to the bruise-colored sky. Nighttime's coming along (just fine). We're gonna fake it till the break of dawn.
Cut the parachute lines (your tongue) your words have sent me spiralling to the ground. No one's ever arrived (just fine). My body's shattered like a Saturday night.
We are the Shiveries. We've come to climb your apple trees and balance on the fence along the pond where we caught dragonflies.
We are the Shiveries. We've come to kill your family with molotov philosophies and songs that make your mothers cry.
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5. |
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The devil does more damage when he's beautiful. I've got my hands on the wheel running from wolves wrapped in wool. The moon's a spider hanging heavy on a web of stars, whose magnetism makes it easier to start the car.
I'll swallow city lights to keep illuminated on this silent stretch of highway where the urgencies of living fade away into the miles left behind.
Ten million looming luna moths could form a funnel cloud, lift me into the heavens, never let me down again. I'd spiral listlessly aloft upon the wafting wings, watching the centuries go spinning by beneath me.
Let autumn leaves become symbolic, as they fall, for all debaucheries and flaws that caused appalling opposition to us all until the summertime dissolved.
Annihilated by theories that gave velocity to disease and gave my baby shaky knees and swayed us to emergency.
Away with thee, foul Mephistopheles, whose fallacies are fraught with false analogies and plots!
Applause is not appropriate.
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6. |
Compilation Song
04:35
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By the time you close your silver satellite eyes, the town will have become grey with sunrise. The birds forgive us all the shit we said while night filled up our hearts with fatal lies, poisoned our blood with punishing amounts of wine.
By the time you open them again, my lines will have been written on the windowsill beside your head requesting temporary asylum from interrogation. I'm not quite ready to describe these Xs on my eyes.
Don't forget those compilations we made...I could never listen to those bands again if you walk away.
I could not stand losing them. Think again. Please don't take my Stevie Wonder, Wire, X, or my Tom Waits away.
And please don't take my Joy Division, and please don't take my Television, please don't take my Bad Religion, and please don't take my Jane's Addiction, please don't take my Daydream Nation, please don't take my The Replacements, please don't take my Kimya Dawson, and please don't take my Leonard Cohen, and please don't take my New Day Rising, and please don't take my Bob Dylan.
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7. |
Sonar
02:15
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And if I'm hard to find, I'll still be here among the alleyways and willows watching fireflies adorn across the street with tiny silent bursts of emerald. Reminds me of the time before I got too old to hold onto even an inch of innocence, before my youth was spent on common sense and non-events, reliving instances in which my racing heart rate would reverberate throughout the universe for centuries. But the echo's getting weak, and so we walk through paths of aftermaths, disasters that leave cities flat, providing us a backdrop of structural crumble. The rubble looks inviting right behind your cotton candy eyes. But it was lovely standing next to you and so we set our heads to hovering and head into the wretchedness, and hopefully someday I can erase the gleaming, glassish case that covers up your classic face, the kind that every boyish voice before the summer sings its praise.
And with these lines, I send this moment out like sonar through the centuries so that they may illuminate the labyrinth of history where skeletons lie scattered all around, and where, somewhere, a town of pestilent peasants stands staring at the same celestial crescent that I stare at some nights so I can shrug at being subjected to subcultures and urban mergers. Somehow I had once beleived these trifles were considered urgent. What we need are certain subtle changes in the scenery so we can concentrate on something other than these monolithic monstrosities that we've so willingly unleashed upon our own species. Let's be slow moving specks upon an atlas, you and me, and then pretend that we're a satellite assigned to watch ourselves from outer space as we go milimetering through major cities late at night on some abandoned stretch of interstate that doesn't end until the sea. So until that day arrives, I'll still be here among the alleyways and willow trees...
And with these lines, my spirit spirals out among the fireflies, and dances throught the branches and expands until it fills the sky.
And with these lines, your poet for tonight steps lightly off the stage, a tiny bit more humble than he was when he began the day.
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8. |
The Ides of Spring
03:47
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A barking dog, a treefrog, and a mockingbird fervently observe this most sacred and ageless of all occurences. Terra firma sheds her shivering surface unto the universe and offers up her virgin vines, vertigonously curved. And we said goodbye and I got on my bike and rode into an alleyway where I could bandage up the blow.
And yes, I am aware of the irony- our time's expired amidst such serenity. The sirens sing more tirelessly when they begin to fathom that they have competition. And springtime spirals so malevolently and I quaff wine quite all melancholy falling softly through these reveries of honeysuckles hung beneath a lavender evening.
Luna staggered wounded into the moonlight lot and leveled her disheveled head at such a shameless shock, to leave me leaning drunkenly up against St. John to contemplate how such a great love fades into mirage.
Hey Luna, let's hit the highway. I think my punk rock paint job's starting to fade, but honey I'll kiss you like Hemingway if you could ever love me like a terrible Roman tragedy where everyone knows about the ending-just a pile of bones. The satellite records show our heroes go centimeters slowly to the edge of the ocean.
Trouble is, the highway's finite. We'll file along until the light finally finds us twisted tight along the tide, tired dissatisfied and broken, but alive.
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9. |
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There's a song in my esophagus and I gotta get it wet so I'm not waiting for the summertime to light my cigarette and I'm not waiting for the equinox to knock my heavy head into the trees where we can sit till spring and watch the cherry blossoms blow in spirals on the breeze into the window of a room decorated with coral reefs, oh Dostoevsky, won't you tell me what it really really means to be a tadpole in a tornado.
Little tiny tadpole blowing blindly in the storm, oh how unmerciful the universe into which you were born, but what a miracle your molecules have done to give you form. So I'll just grow a beard when I get bored and have another zinfandel in homage to the surreptitiously disintegrating situation, undeterred that soon my sideburns will be earthworms safe at home under the dirt, but that's ok, cause it's today and you're my Vireo, oh my Vireo, scarlet-headed sprite, and it's been quiet here without these constant crises on my mind,
Oh Vireo, oh my Vireo, the city warning sirens are inciting fear- we're just two feathers in bad weather along for the ride.
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10. |
For Heather, Forever
01:10
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Goodbye to this life that I have lived.
My bones are weary and my coat's worn thin. I gotta leave this place before it does me in. I said goodbye to this life that I have lived.
Farewell to the treefrogs in the trees, and goodbye to the birdsongs on the breeze. Well I'm heading out for the city lights, but I'm sure gonna miss these summer nights, I said goodbye to the treefrogs in the trees.
Goodbye to the woman I have loved. Goodbye to the girl that I have loved. Well I'll wear these boots your father gave me till the day they put me down in my grave, I said goodbye to this girl that I have loved.
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