Split w/ Jetty Boys

by Direct Hit!

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    These songs, +2 more written and performed by the Jetty Boys on a 7" record

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(free) 03:09


released 04 November 2011

Nick Woods - guitar/vox
Devon Kay - guitar/vox
Robbie Schroeder - bass
Danny Walkowiak - drums

Recorded by Shane Olivo in April 2011 at Bobby Peru's Platinum Hit Factory Where Fallout Boy Recorded Too

Mastered by Justin Perkins at Mystery Room



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Direct Hit! Wisconsin

Direct Hit is a band from Milwaukee, Wis. and Chicago, Ill. Nick and Devon sing and play guitar, Danny plays drums, and Steve plays bass. We've released two LPs, five split 7"s, a split 12", a box of tapes, and a whole lot of dumb stuff on the internet. We accidentally wrote a catchphrase some people know, behave like children, and take everything really seriously. Fuck you. ... more


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Track Name: Through The Windshield, Holding Hands
His girlfriend's at wit's end, but they want to try again
He's tried to ask how do they make some breakup mutual
It's not like they could write a note then climb on a bike,
Ride into the wide blue and forget what they've been through

She's a bitch and he's a dick
She makes him sick, he makes her frantic
So faking like they'll ride into the sunset's not romantic

So what should they do?
Could they just shut up?
They've withstood barbs, lances, sharp glances
Still go to shrinks, not dances

It's not my fault that I think suicide's a far cry from useless
Confucius would say "fuck this," chalk deuces

She thinks their relationship could use an injection of commitment
So how 'bout brains on pavement?
Permanent's an understatement

So how do I go through this shit?
No, I'm not used to fights, bashes, wounds, gashes
Heartbreak, attacks, rematches

Not to say I'm OK
I've shown my share of contained enragement
Adjacent to their tear-filled complacence

I think they should take some time to be apart, reflect, rewind
But that's no option when they both say that they're fine

Fuck this, I'm not taking it
This song's devoted to commitment
We're sick of all the whining, no one cares, no one can stand it
An automatic rifle in their mouth's the best prescription
We're all so glad we've come to such an eloquent decision

So thank you, your undue attention's helped me see who I care for:
Myself more than them
Just try to ignore my portents
Important life lessons aren't absorbant, like towels or bowels

I'm too drunk to form vowels
Track Name: Say Whatever
I've got a body in the back of my Chevrolet
It's minus both eyes out of its sockets
I pulled the teeth from its mouth and kept the screaming contained
Before I dumped it on the side of the road

There must be 10, 15, 20, maybe 50 of them
They're plugging sewers, drainage ditches and noses
Because the stench spilling into the township streets is choking children,
Making faces corrode

And nobody's catching on because I cover my tracks,
And keep 'em guessing
Wonder when they'll think to look in the back of my car?

Say whatever you want to
They won't figure it out
No one's got evidence
There's no cut-dry reason to quit

Cleaning blood and bile is as bad as it gets
But I can guarantee it's better than retail
The salary is even richer than horse track bets
And benefits are overrated, you know

It satisfies a neurological necessity
No, I haven't tried to get it treated or dampened
Because I haven't had a single problem keeping it down low
No, I haven't had a problem at all

Tell me I should stop again, and you might find yourself below the floor
Who are you to say what I can talk about
In the privacy of my own home?
Say whatever you want to, but I can guarantee it's not gonna help you