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Except all the radios agree with all the TVs
And the magazines agree with all the radios
And I keep hearing that same damn song everywhere I go
Maybe I should put a bucket over my head
And a marshmallow in each ear
And stumble around for another dumb-numb week
For another hum drum hit song to appear
May 29, 2025
Related Recs
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Idk why but this line from In The Morning by Built to Spill just repeats over and over in my head... maybe it's cuz I used to listen to the Front Bottoms song where they ape that line in high school. Something about the way Doug Martsch says it just scratches my brain ykwim ..
Apr 18, 2024
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listen, love "espresso" by sabrina carpenter. but my specific cocktail of mental neuroses will not let me let this go
And I got this one boy and he won't stop callin / When they act this way, I know I got 'em
that's the end of verse 1 right?
this is the end of verse 2
My twisted humor make him laugh so often / My honeybee, come and get this pollen
...shouldn't the end of those two rhyme schemes be switched?
like shouldn't it go somethin like:
And I got this one boy and he won't stop callin / My honeybee, come and get this pollen
and then
My twisted humor make him laugh so often / When they act this way, I know I got 'em
although this is not NEARLY the most egregious example of this. anybody remember that song "gold" from a while back?? that one with the line:
I missed you in the basement / But your brother was a good substitute for you
....."REPLACEMENT" WAS RIGHT THERE
I missed you in the basement / But your brother was a good ̶s̶u̶b̶s̶t̶i̶t̶u̶t̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ replacement
LIKE IT WAS RIGHT THERE YYYYYYY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MY BRAIN
Apr 19, 2024
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The days I don’t want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains on the floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today,
Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
Jul 4, 2024
Top Recs from @mattshawsome
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this is worthy of celebration: the lack of video—autoplay video, noisy inane video, panicky video, algorithmic, dumb video, rabbit hole video, any video—on pi.fyi is a good thing
Oct 5, 2024
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this is going to hurt — A LOT — but it's getting to the point where there's no other option
Mar 11, 2025