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When The Kids Are Gone
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Chup, Chup
garage lofi soundtrack hammond barry stones crap movie bad organ dad loser sucky hermit waits french horn travers scratchy hideous
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This is Dad Travers and his Tape Recorder. That's all folks.
Dad's been playing guitar since he was seven and has been sneaking time on people's pianos since he was nine. Various Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents and friends can attest to the vulgar habit of bee-lining to their pianos and trying to sing "Hey Jude". Although he's never gotten all that good, he's got lots of "great" ideas. Over the years he's been in quite a few bands and just can't quit writing his tunes down. Admittedly, he's got the voice of the guy on the intercom at the junk yard (if there is one), but no one's ever filed a lawsuit against it. Mom is on the french horn, or was on the french horn... she left it back in Yorkshire. This is a class operation folks! In his Tascam recording days Dad was limited by the instruments he had. Drums were Tupperware bowls with uncooked rice in them (sped up and slowed down for various toms and snare). Today he's using his iBook and the limitations are memory based. Although he hates using synthetic or pre-recoded nonsense, there just isn't always another option and he apologizes for that. All the best laid plans go to pot when the computer just won't run with another track. So quite a few projects end in what would have been an "unfinished" state. No worries, only excuses. So Dad is from Cambridge, MA. He's easily tempted by good beer. Got any? Sincerely Dad (oops, I mean "sincerely Dad's publicist" who insisted to write about Dad in the third person. Ahem).
Song Info
Genre
Rock Garage Rock
Charts
#790 in subgenre Peak #7
Charts
Peak #66
Author
Dad Travers
Uploaded
December 02, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.3 MB 128 kbps 1:25
Lyrics
Hey Better go and get your ire up babby now you got your teeth out Baby got herself a hot mouth baby Love it when you Shout But you gotta bring it along When the kids are gone Baby got herself a hot act baby Love it when you burst out Would love to cook you up a high-class meal babe Maybe take you out But you gotta bring it along When the kids are gone Cha-cha! (followed by epic guitar solo) Now we gone a got our old face baby We never wanna go out I gotta be within a yard of my mommy's house So she can take my pants out Don't believe there's no moral to the story now? Can't become no Peter Pan Love ya misses you're a full hot momma You get your kitchen while you can But you gotta bring it along When the Kids are gone
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