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    5 tracks from Brooklyn pop snots, The Casual Sexists. Limited edition of 50 copies on cassette

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lyrics

Grow:

How can I wish for you to grow?

Warm inside the loving fist
The most delicate specimen
You make me forget myself
I watch you watch me from your dainty little shelf
As I demand your sympathy
The debt of love you owe to me
Admire my sweet honesty
For I remain your majesty

How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)

How could you want for anything that I cannot provide?
You know the birds do sing outside, outside
the windows of this happy home
because I put them there for you
I threatened them for you

Why should I wish for you to grow
When you might fly away?
How could I wish for you to grow?
(You might fly away)
I cannot wish for you to grow
I will not wish for you to....

What I really wanted was a child
But for now I'll settle for the aisle
And you will fill his golden little shoes with the bronze
He'll never once endure
And still you sit there, sit there, sit there
So horribly demure

How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)
How can I wish for you to grow?
(you might fly away)
I cannot wish for you to grow
You will not fly away
Only a few more years to go
Til we both fly away...

Cymothoa Exigua:

Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well tonight
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Green jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
Hope it tasted good, old son

Hopes collapse like melting plastic
The ‘revolution’ remains static
Spineless little Billy Liar
Kiss kiss, bang bang
This gun’s for hire

Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well tonight
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son

Boys and girls
Cover your eyes and your ears
Hold out your hands and stick out your tongues
Choke it down
Words drip like melting plastic
The situation remains static
Speak up, dear little liar
Who’s really to blame when your tongue is for hire?

Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son

Cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa, cymothoa
Throw your pistol away

Cymothoa stole your tongue
Tiny jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty grease to loosen your tongue
I hope you’re sleeping well
Cymothoa stole your tongue
Grubby jaws replaced it with a new one
Dirty money to control your tongue
You can go to hell, my son

credits

from Let's Go To The Beach, released November 26, 2016

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about

The Casual Sexists Brooklyn, New York

Transatlantic couple Varrick and Ed Zed have been coaxing crooked pop songs out of disillusionment, animals and the glorious horrors of modern life since before Brexit. Drums, computers and household objects are their tools.

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