The Please & Thank Yous

by The Please & Thank Yous

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credits

released 20 April 2014
Geoff Schott: Vocals/Guitar
Tim Crisp: Guitar/Vocals
Vince Aguilar: Bass/Vocals
Marcus Nuccio: Drums

Meticulously produced & recorded by Hazmat "Matt" Jordan at Tinky Town in October 2013
Mixed by Alex 'Dude, Check Out This Ballin Tree House' Burns in Winter 2013-2014
Mastered by Dave Downham at Gradwell House in Winter 2014

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Track Name: Naan Sequitur
Smells like the ocean in this underpass
You asked about authentic Indian in my favorite accent
I wish I pointed you in the wrong direction
Cuz you never asked what I thought you’d never ask


No destination, untangle our paths
Looks like a piece of yours got tied up with a piece of my thread
I hoped you’d turn around, heard no interjection
And you never asked what I thought you’d never ask

To come with you
Been dying to
That’s not a lie if it’s half true
Just let me eat curry and rice with you
Track Name: The Advil Smoking Blues
Feels like yesterday I was just sixteen
Filling notebooks with awkward poetry
Acquainting myself with this ugly sinking feeling
Curled up on the bathroom floor to try to keep myself from hurling

We were perfect strangers then
And we probably should have never met
Cuz I’m feeling worse with every day
Got xerostomia and shakes

And are you aware I trip over everything you say?
And these bags under my eyes get heavier
With every passing day that you don’t see me

Chest pains becoming too acute
The fuck does this shit even do?
Do it cuz the doctor tells me to
Now I got the Advil-smokin’ blues

Diagnosed without knowing
That side effects may include
That I could be a junkie for anyone
But I was only using you
Track Name: It's What You Think
In the back of my mind there's a song I'm slowly learning. I'll be fine. Your silence leaves uncertain. This is goodbye. Kiss me quick or I won't miss you - and you call this a non-issue? You're only sorry when you're lonely so please don't call me. Hold me close or I'll move past you - at least, that's your point of view. Cool, calm, collected; I'm exhausted. Call me up or I'll forget you. That's your point of view. I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be calm. I'm not collected.
Track Name: If There's Dancing At This Party, I'm Leaving
I don't know what's worse: being alone in a room with all these people I kind-of-sort-of know or being alone by myself. On a scale of one to ten I guess I'm overwhelmed.

I don't want to be obnoxious. I don't want to be talkative. I don't want to feel indifferent, but I got to be honest: when I say that I'm lonely I don't mean I'm just restless though I guess I feel like I'm reckless enough to destroy everything I love.
Track Name: Weekend At Clyde's
It’s a feeling I can’t place, written expression on my face. You grab your coat and we plan out our escape. The black cat in the alleyway heard you heard a ghost. We seen three men hanging high up from a leafless tree.

Autumn is falling into slow and dying days. You always seem to fall apart in the loveliest ways.

Numb ourselves into the horror of watching brown and red and yellow fade to white on top of the ugliest grey. I take it more personal than most. Feel like nothing coming in, and you’ll say nothing on your way out.

Lay me down and let my body turn to stone. I heard you haven’t heard. Open up your ears, the sound out there is deafening it ranges somewhere between neither here nor there.

With the first snow when the worst of us have turned to stone, we’ll be with our sins so high up in that leafless tree. Count your lucky stars with hands tied behind your back. Swinging with the doors that open, never let you in.

**this song owes a tremendous debt to Richard Hugo’s poem “The Milltown Union Bar” from The Lady In Kicking Horse Reservoir (1973)**
Track Name: Wasted On You
Get your shit together and give me a call
Thought you were a failure, it was her all along
So why are you still there outside her house
Freezing your ass off in the car
Wasting all your time trying to add up how she ever even bothered you at all?

When you finally burn out on this trip
Will this be the last one? she said, you promised
So let’s all sing about butterflies in a field
Not the little guys that she made you feel
You’ve been puking up all morning
Pacified to find that they’re not even real

Just a part of my imagination
Sever all communication
Have you got nothing to say then?
I was just intoxicated

And by the time it’s morning I’ll be wishing you were dead
I hope this record’s boring to all your fake ass fucking friends
If anybody needs me I’ll be sleeping in the van
Can’t wait til this night’s over so we can do it all again

Do it all again