Who Cares

by Dingus

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GOD IS BED
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GOD IS BED I have listened to this album so many times. The pop punk music I wish I could write. Easily my favorite album of 2015. Favorite track: Positive QI.
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03:50
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03:19
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02:04
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01:59
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01:46
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02:15
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04:17

about

Purchase digitally at dinguspunk.bandcamp.com
Pre-order the lp at bloatedkat.storenvy.com

credits

released March 3, 2015

Dingus is:
Jonathan Walters- Bass, Vocals, Piano
Sam Beer- Guitars, Vocals
Parker Thompson- Drums, Vocals

All songs and lyrics written by Jonathan Walters
All songs arranged and dingified by Dingus
Recorded by Eric Hills
On THE ZOMBIES,
Jeannette Kjos- Clarinet
Jacob Zykov- Trombone

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license

all rights reserved

about

Bloated Kat Records Iowa

I started this record label when I was in the 8th grade. I'm almost 32 now. I cried when I watched the vet euthanize the label's namesake, my boyhood cat Snicklefritz.

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Track Name: IROB
I'm starting this story at five in the morning.
Serving at IHOP, I get sat a four top.
A forty-three dollar bill, they leave nineteen.
So they walk out wasted, and I chase them
All the way to their stolen car.

Through this shit, will you find your better self?
Will you break from expectations brought from someone else's will?
Will you find that life is more than just abiding corporate needs?
Or will pancakes still precede security?

I tapped on his window, we both start to argue.
Right then it happened, he reached in my apron
and stole the book in which my shift's cash had been.
So I jump in through the driver's window,
Both my ass and legs on the outside of the car now.
The driver floors it, we all start screaming,
He punches me until I fall out.

They were drunk and came hungry,
They robbed my blind and left happy.
Bringing home the bacon now,
They beat me like scrambled eggs,
I can't believe it's true.
Track Name: Palestinian Pity
So here we are amongst these shitty situations,
Our Middle East will hardly see a grace from either god.
We talk of Palestine with less enthused subjunctive, like:
"If we were to push our boundaries back to where they've been,
Where a swimming pool could bless a thirsty kid."

It's wrong, and who's right?
Ambitions to vengeance for closure
On each losing side of the fight.
It's who's first to kill?
The Koran and Torah sill contradictorily
Structure our will.

Five times a day, we give our praise with no solution,
The US citizens can't see the harm their taxes bought.
And so it goes, these G.I. Joes eat from our fridges, but
That doesn't seem kosher with an uninvited raid,
And another disregard for harmony.

The bombs, the Strip, the terrorists,
The slain, the dead, the kids, and the elderly.
The painting is bleak,
From Fox News to Al Jazeera.
Track Name: Arbitrary Fantasy
It always seems to end this way,
With shattered hopes left in dismay.
I guess I'll just go masturbate,
She leaves my heart in socks.

And right away, she's back again,
This time more provocative.
So here we fucking go again,
Another stammered thought.

This fucking dream, not what it seems,
An arbitrary fantasy.
With broken wings, she's so far up,
This failing flight's in vain.

Cause she's so far up.
This pedestal provided by your's truly still persists.
And she's so far away.
Acknowledge me looking up to you,
Before you kick me down this flight of stairs.
Track Name: Positive QI
Sometimes it will take you until you're staring down toilets,
That you've been this rock at the bottom for too many months.
You sloppily wipe your face with no more excuses,
It's time to grow.
I cannot recall the past few nights spent in Fargo,
But I can remember the thought that I'd probably forget.
What it's like to reach a type of introspective
Light to glow.

Would someone please pick me up?
I''m afraid of where I might end up for the night tonight.
Oh, there's some place I could find peace with myself,
And the world would have a better impression,
Of who I'd like to be.

I'm sick of the brain cells lost, I'm sick of no breakfast,
These empty bottles fuck up this houses feng shui.
I might just go ring a bell or light up a candle.
But that won't take back the drunken text
That I apparently sent out to that confused girl,
Or the way that I pissed in an inappropriate space.
Oh, the shock you got from all of those around you,
It's getting old.

It's like I'm drifting off to sea, alone.
My body's drowning,
And I can't believe I've lost the shore.
Track Name: Hiawatha
When you're seventeen for more than seven years,
When your invincible youth seems to still linger.
Then you'll see that life's not always pop punk,
Some day, you're actually going to die.
So don't fuck it up.

Sam and I were riding bikes with dude vodka,
We saw some drunks on the bridge over Hiawatha.
So we stopped and drank with seemingly nice folk,
But then they got right on our bikes and left right in front of us.

Our lives came so close to an end.
No other way to comprehend
Hiawatha.
Through drunken stunts, somehow survived
Enlightening Highway 55,
Hiawatha.

Parker and I parked our bikes at Palmer's Bar,
When you get cut off there, you know you took it way too far.
So we left, blacked out, and rode over a curb.
Broken bones and got brain surgery.
I almost didn't wake up.

My life came so close to an end.
No other way to comprehend
Hiawatha.
Through drunken stunts, somehow survived
Enlightening Highway 55,
Hiawatha.
Track Name: Kursk
Twas a hot Russian summer, 1943,
And there sweating was Boris barely aged seventeen.
The Third Reich had taken his family away,
So he sought, and he fought to avenge.

He had worked off his ass for three bullets a day,
Until the day came when he got his shot,
To enlist with the Reds cause Operation Citadel
Had been Hitler's upcoming plot.

A million mines, three thousand tanks,
1.9 million Soviets prepared.
Up against the finest Panzers,
And three thousand Luftwaffe in the air.

So Boris put on his game face, went into the fight,
And joined the Voronezh Front to make the Nazis go scheisse.
Thousands had died tragically on both sides,
Until Stalin gave his counter attack.

Ah-deen, dvah, tree!
Chase them back to Germany.
Eins, zwei, drei, vier!
With such an iron fist.
With what would soon become,
The greatest battle in history.

Boris gave his all,
Pissed and starving with his family dead.
His will prevailing while his body bled.

And so it all goes with your typical heroes,
Boris leaves us with only a name.
The Soviets had won,
And fireworks shot out from Moscow again.
Track Name: The Zombies
When you close your eyes as if you're sleeping,
The virus spreads across this freshly bitten wound.
And it morphs your human consciousness to your former nemesis,
You wake and walk through rigor mortis.

Starving, staggering, struggling on
This newfound quest for brains,
There, your wife screams terrified.
You love her so, but she looks delicious.

She screams for the last time.

And so she will close her eyes as if she's sleeping,
You'll stagger off together never leaving sides.
Pretty soon, you'll find the kids
And bring your family back together again,
And happily ever lived the Zombies.
Track Name: Ole and Lena
What's a joke when nobody's laughing?
What's a couple when they're out of style?
Ole and Lena got some stories, but no one's listening.

Living up the Red River Valley.
From time to time, Sven is stopping by,
And Lars is always making lutefisk.
It's still the same old spiel.

"Uff-da, You betchya," straight from Scandinavia.
"Uff-da, Ya sure, den." Not much else they say.
Naive perspectives and slightly pathetic.
Not much has changed, but the joke's getting worse.

Stoicism vibes, yet so Minnesota nice.

Now, what have we come to? Sex, drugs, and baby jokes.
A culture content with the utmost disrespect
For those old fashioned virtues. We mindlessly youtube.
We've reached a Midwest with no more laughs of innocence.
Track Name: Where For Art Thou Jerks
Come my love, won't you lay with me?
Ejaculate upon thy bosom gracefully.
Come my love, doest thou want to boff?
Hence to thy neighbor's yard, I'll eat your ass.

Why you gotta rain on parades and hump like dogs?
Why'd you have to fuck it all up while we watch these songs?
Just another show at our run down house,
But this time, I don't think the neighbors will abide.

Wherefore art thou my sweet, my all?
Shall we fornicate on their neighbor's lawn,
Rather than right by that lake across the street.
Track Name: Epistemology
I broke it down, analyzed the moment,
Which had never been empirically understood
By the way that I thought about what women would want.
I think I'm thinking too much instead of letting the moment be.
Epistemology
Would never fix a broken heart.
The metaphysics set me off,
She never could be understood.

She broke down, called me out.
I sat and tried to figure her out,
But found out that was my problem
In the first fucking place. She's not a problem to fix.
Philosophizing is dumb when you just use it to hold her hand.

I think, therefore I'm stupid.
Can't predict a basis for
An outcome of her deep desire,
Far beyond what reason can provide.

I think too much, I'm losing her.
Track Name: Don Quixote
He will shine through this dark age with reason,
And he will rise amongst his criticizing crowd.
With out economy squandering, and no place to go,
Don Quixote habitually told:
"You can't keep on tilting at windmills
And pursuing a dream that's been done."
Cause your helmet's a basin, and your maiden's a whore.
Stuck in Mancha, with Sancho Panza to please.

Every night there's a dream of a knight's chivalry,
Filled with giants and bullshit that makes us proceed.
In the end, we're alone,
And we all could use ourselves a hero.

So, his life stays eventful while they're so resentful,
His caballerismo is still skeptic-proof.
Until he regains sanity, vanity wins.
He's got nothing to lose. Naysayers say, aloof:
"You can't keep on tilting at windmills,
Nowadays you can only succeed
With a nine-to-five job and a 401k."
Give what they say another night's worth of sleep.