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Act Natural

by Taiwan Typhoon

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1.
03:59
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04:02
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03:13
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about

Larry Chiswick - Vocals
Rob Gonnella - Guitar
Mike Ducott - Guitar
Jon Taft - Bass
Damian Adshead - Drums

Special Guests:
Dana Colley - Saxophone (You in Gaza, Taiwan Typhoon)
Ian Kennedy - Violin (Hushaphone and Shut It)

credits

released December 21, 2010

Engineered by Jon Taft at New Alliance Studios, Cambridge, MA

Produced by Nick Zampiello

Mastered by Nick Zampiello and Rob Gonnella at New Alliance East, Cambridge, MA

Design by Damian Adshead at Adshead Graphics

©2011 | Taiwan Typhoon is a registered trademark

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Taiwan Typhoon Cambridge, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Preacher
We forget when the wars begin. And why we fight. And who we do and do not like. The ether of the spider’s thread. Spun right through the brain. Pitiful moth to the beautiful flame, amen. And you are the festering sore we must. Get used to. That’s the last thing this place needs. Another know it all. Preaching to hear themselves preach to the wall. Pointless. What you don’t seem to understand. We’re fine with the way things are. Who cares when the war began. Or if it’s still here tomorrow. And you are the festering sore we must. Get used to. You’re the sore that spreads. Poisoning the blood. Climbing up the limbs. Your two cents will roll right down into the drain pipe. Where the blood and the bones of what’s wrong. With this picture stay hidden from the light. Did you think it would matter one bit at all? Undecipherable hieroglyphics on the wall. Who cares when the war began. Who cares if it’s here tomorrow. Who cares if it ever ends. A lie for a guiding star. The last thing this place needs. Another know it all. Telling us all how the sky’s going to fall. Yeah you are the festering sore climbing up the limb.
Track Name: You In Gaza
This doesn’t bode well at all. The demon has appeared. Cut your losses, get out. There’s nothing for you here. That’s what you say to yourself these mornings. Ominous clouds of the forming. And the path that brought you here. Will not take you home. There is a chain of mistakes that never breaks for some. Happy hour is over. You’re a penniless mess. Your charm won’t see you thru last call. Leave now go sleep it off in the car. And the path that brought you here. Will not take you home. There is a chain of mistakes that never breaks for some. Something has to change but nothing will. Your past will catch up by the trail of unpaid bills. Your books of matches, the ashes of your bridges. It must be lonesome, my friend, I bet it is. The sun is on its way up. You look to the east and sigh. Lift your eyes to the rear view mirror. You are the evil omen here. And the path that brought you here. Will not take you home. It is the path for all your years. And you’re on your own. There is a chain of mistakes that never breaks for some.
Track Name: Kristen
Kristen and the Countless Dead. Honestly, I barely knew her. I thought she was dull, kinda fake. When I try to picture her I see that stupid smile. On her face. Just about anything that you said her reaction. Was the same. Unnecessary laughter and some tired catch phrase. Oh what was her name, I forget. Was it Courtney, Michelle or Tanya. Everyone is the star of their little box office failure. Everyday any trace that she left is fading into the blur. We are the countless, nameless dead who feed the earth. She was just some girl I knew that died. Not much else left to say, I guess. For reasons unknown she has crossed my mind. That poor girl. Getting into her car one last time to leave the world. I don’t think I so much as batted an eyelash on the day I heard, years ago. For reasons unknown she is on my mind. She’s on my mind, on my mind. She was just some girl I knew that died. Just one more infinitesimal insignificant miracle gone for good. Honestly, I barely knew her. I thought she was dull, kinda fake. When I try to picture her I see that stupid smile. On her face. Just about anything that you said her reaction. Was the same. Unnecessary laughter and some tired catch phrase. Oh what was her name, I forget. Was it Courtney, Michelle or Tanya. Everyone is the star of their little box office failure. Everyday any trace that she left is fading into the blur. We are the countless, nameless dead who feed the earth.
Track Name: Taiwan Typhoon
That dog does not look friendly. That hound looks a mighty mean. He's an inbred mangey son of a bitch, I believe he is a killing machine. God damn. And if he finds his way back home we're all dead men. He broke off like Colonel Kurtz and laid waste to everything that he saw. Beer cans, scratch offs and baby pictures littering the floor of his car. They might send men looking for him maybe a shrink, a priest or John Law. Teach a dog to hunt in the woods and he's ripping up the babies at home. I hope you know. I am in no condition to operate this machine. Your best bet is to build a raft, tie me down, float my ass upstream. And if I find my way back home, you're all dead men. He broke off like Colonel Kurtz and laid waits to everything that he saw. 45's, 357's, AK's stashed under the floor. Might send men looking for him, maybe a shrink, a priest or John Law. Teach a dog to hunt in the woods and he's ripping up the babies at home. Ihope you know. Crying at the pawn shop. Hammered at church. Cursing at the bus stop. He's not going to make it. No, Go home, be cool reassimilate, act normal, go home. The plane goes down. you make it out alive. One flame left in the flare gun. One prayer left on the tongue. And you wish that you had someone, but nobody's gonna come. The prayer seems like a joke now. And the flare an abrupt punchline. Aim at the heavens for hope, or aim it at the temple and shoot.
Track Name: Hushaphone and Shut It
Misinformed dilettantes. Merciless thieves of air. At some choice watering hole. Pull up a chair. Spouting rhetoric. Knowing none of it. Barkeep Oh please more wine. All of it. Til we've wet our brains. Men of vice, cowards. Dodging the wear and tear. As they skim the cliff notes of despair. I believe that I've had enough. Spouting rhetoric. Knowing none of it. Barkeep, oh please more wine. All of it. Til we've wet our brains. Let them be. Tune them out. Close your tab, walk away. It's alright. Nothing to see, nothing to say. I believe that I've had enough.