Pop-influenced mutli-genre alternative
Spring-Loaded Twatshot is an entity capable of annoying your ears, tickling your toes, and eating away at your preconceived notions of what good music is.
Story behind the song
This song is about loss, feigned grief, and conspiracies.
Lyrics
Daddy shook his hand and Daddy went away,
Cronkite knew just the right things to say
To let our teeth grind fine,
And to let them stomach our wine
But now it seems we're far form the only culprit charged,
With ruining stained glass, oh pounds and pounds of tar,
What will make a man stab shards of glass into his hands?
Wait for the sputtered words that'll keep these powders fine,
And hand back the shiny coins, they were never yours or mine
And fall for the only plot that's goin down rain or shine,
Yea he's down! You see him? He's bleeding on the microphone
Daddy shook his hand, not my daddy's dead,
Took an eager bullet right ot his head
Oh what could I have done? What could we have done?
Mama's cryin now into no one's arms,
She left him before, so why was it hard?
Feigned concern and ambition,
And a brand new loaded kitchen
Where are the laughing clowns who dreamed up all this sleep?
Where are the laughing masses whose benefits he reaped?
