Get all 11 Justin's Wonderful Time releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Inbox / Sunglasses, i Don't hear YOU, Lunchtime Assembly, 09 or Stage 5-1 (Remade On Instruments), P F / P C, Behind A Hill (A Wond'rous Thrill Remix), MoC4202019, TITMR/OMEITD Demoes, and 3 more.
1. |
Running Late
00:44
|
|||
2. |
Doom Buggy
04:57
|
|||
|
Refrain: Doom Buggy in the Morning,
Doom Buggy in the night.
Doom Buggy in the morning,
Doom Buggy everytime.
I'm stacking a whole lotta things that we stack
Under new employment. No one's on my back.
No trait's been decided to pin down my act.
I'm over the water: I have yet to crack.
R.
It's hard to find work when you don't want to try,
And everyone sees by the looks in our eyes.
Whenever we're smiling, we just want to cry.
We ask for assistance 'cause if not we die.
R.
I went through the doorway so embarrassed and shy.
'Cause if I hadn't hesitated, I would have died.
'Cause forklifts pull product incredibly high,
And it all comes down tumbling. So heavy and nigh.
I crawl in a cavity and finally lay,
My head as it multiplies in slow-crawling gray.
Surrounding the kiddy-smile with patient decay.
For now, I'm just "happy" that I'm gonne get paid.
R.
|
||||
3. |
Drug-Boy
03:17
|
|||
|
I'm a Drug-Boy. (He's just a tiny little boy).
But I do drugs. (As a tiny little boy).
I'm a Drug-Boy. (Buy a drug that he enjoys).
'Cause I do drugs. (He's a tiny little boy).
And at one pointm, (He used to be a man).
But I grew up. (He's a Grow-Up Boy™).
And at once I'm, (Extremely old and wise),
Yet youthful enough, (To have a good time).
Gotta act all, (Really tough around "the guys"),
For a girl who, ((If not much else), Will say that I'm "a man").
You're a square and, (You've failed to understand),
All about why, (My pacifier's cool/hip),
Waterfall. Milk. Ripple. Ripple.
I'm sucking on the vape like it's mommy's nipple.
;)
|
||||
4. |
Trick Store
03:36
|
|||
|
The girls on the bus look real swell.
Society raised them well.
Hey! (wait a minute, hold on, stop the bus, the president is on the phone)
"Maybe that's why they wear sexy clothes?"
Trying so hard to rebel.
I don't know about girls these days
They don't get in my bed.
I've been around the world with her and it's kinda funny that she still talks about me y'know?
Don't. Believe. A. Word. She. Said. (This is a threat.)
(Whispered into the wide-open, always-listening ears of our just principal:
She's a Trick store, trickster, Trick Store!
Don't believe a word she said.
She's a trick Store
Aw shit! She's in my head!?)
I destroyed her reputation once i got the itch,
and if she fucking acknowledges me? WOW! What a bithc!
By my humble estimation, her thinking's too uncouth.
I'm not st'ppin' ya fr'm askin' 'round, but if you r'lly w'nna kn'w th' tr'th...?
|
||||
5. |
Mary
02:04
|
|||
|
Just a circle of businessmen,
Wrapped around our very good friend.
Mary's unafraid of our stance.
We dream of being alone with her pants.
Mary! Wanna give it a go?!
I'm so happy she didn't say no.
Write her into your family tree.
That way Mary will never be free.
Whoopsie! Did I say that out loud?
WHOOPSIE-DIDDLE-DIDDLY-DEE!
She's a novelty of a human being.
Mary's in pictures well worth-seeing,
And Without Words we are all agreeing.
Group-willed, pompous circumstance.
I'm so happy she didn't say no.
|
||||
6. |
Huy Lam
03:04
|
|||
|
Huy Lam where did you go?
How ya living? I dunno.
Am I Utility, or meant for the line?
...Or am I doing fine?
You know that guy's a jerk.
Only a snitch neglects their work.
He bothers the lady who smiles at me.
He knows he isn't freeeeeeeeeeeeee....
White people are gay.
They ain't got nuthin' else to say.
Their heads are empty, and pick through the mess,
That their daddies left.
Huy Lam I wanna cry.
This evil world wants us to die.
Drugged into autopsy and under the hull,
An apathetic lull.
(You) said you already know.
There's time to stay and time to go.
Set your sights on Vietnam.
Get out while you can.
|
||||
7. |
Cereal In-Vogue
05:02
|
|||
|
I got bags in the morning
I got bags in the night
You need bags in your fireplace
So the fuel can ignite
I have bags full of oatmeal
I have bags full of rice
I soak bags for the morning
When I get home at night.
Listening, to your infallible advice.
Then I'm in your good books and I'm never thinking twice.
Glistening, off your TVs. Always nigh.
I see you in the morning as I'm trying not to cry.
Serial In-Vogue.
Nibbling, on the sugars in this house.
Hiding from the humans like a frightened little mouse.
Tingling, nothing within your shattered heart.
Tell me every reason that your life's been torn apart.
Trying to give me something that I'll never truly, never really, get given.
I'm not the marzipan man in your head you've been dreaming.
|
||||
8. |
Stackers
07:09
|
|||
|
Stackers, not slackers.
Wake up.
There's a parade outside.
Look out your window.
Quick, shut the door for teacher.
"Hello dear children how are you today?
I am dear teacher. My. Rule's. Here. To. Stay.
I teach you while sleepng and everyday.
It's easy to watch and it's easy to say,
BE..." (Join the parade!)
Ladies and gentleman a starving infant.
"The question's not if, it's what and it's why. 'Cause everyone knows that the powerful lie."
Ahhh this is the part where the infant slowly dies.
Yes that is it.
Stackers, not slackers.
No one understands except me.
The Candies, their Wrappers,
The Ushers, the clappers,
The Actress, The Actors,
The Global Impacters.
The Cheese and the Crackers.
your children, Their Trackers.
"your Brain"™ is not faster.
Just Patriarchal Plaster.
The stigmas, their catchers.
The straw man Attachers.
The proles and Their Masters.
The Critics. (Their Casters).
The monsters. Their Lashers.
Police-bureau bashers.
Conservative hassles,
And communist castles.
The Sledgehammer's cow feeds Death to the ground.
A War Between Families and Greed for the mounds.
Politically Sound. Their Laws had them (us) Drowned.
Tearing away the one chance that we found.
EVERY EYE SHALL BE FORCED TO COMPLY WITH WHATEVER THEY WANT US TO SEE.
nOTHING SHALL BE UNLESS IT'S EXACTLY WHAT THEY'VE DETERMINED THAT IT SHALL BE.
If They're not a cult, just a bunch of rich dolts who have long ruled and told you that, at best, you're all just,
Stackers™, not slackers.
|
||||
9. |
Cookie Buttons
04:42
|
|||
|
I am made out of marzipan.
Tiny vultures encircle my hand.
They eat my flesh like it's Christmas cake.
Sometimes it can be-uh hard to take.
Trying to feel the way.
Cookie Buttons.
Pushing me away. Pushing me and my,
Kooky Buttons.
So tell your King to chop off my head.
You're the bull who painted me red.
Skip my life like you skip your songs.
Always tried to tell you what's wrong.
|
||||
10. |
P'tit Gâterie
06:45
|
|||
|
Brother.
I love you like no other.
Do a good job for our mother.
'Cause whether or not she will abort us,
Such is based on... your performance.
My Petit
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalaalalalaa
Okay.
You were randomly selected.
But I know God really meant it.
On the surface and compared to all these strangers
Your successes face no danger.
They have teeth my petit.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalla
One thing is for certain. Underneath the curtain,
You're just as boring as you seem.
So praise me like an idol.
Do. It. For. Survival.
Hand in hand we'll bland them into cream.
You know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin: you know that we can dwarf them: the jaws of the abortion: the racism endorphin.
|
||||
11. |
The Men's Room
03:20
|
|||
|
Polishing your hilt,
In a hole you made of silk,
Would it were not for the lie,
We would have each other killed.
Screaming face of swollen guilt.
In a house we never built.
Kill my thought and keep the flesh.
He won't remember how it felt,
When we drag him by the neck.
You're in public, don't forget.
Pretty sure this your line,
Mon p'tit marionette.
Picked your lifestyle. Picked your clothes.
Thanks for everything I know,
But I gotta go to sleep,
And you're stepping on my toes.
Hug that door you chained.
Tell me the truth again.
Well, I'd rather be lied to,
Than trapped in The Men's Room.
Eye me like a prize,
you'll receive and then despise.
To be shown to Someone Else.
Whom you can't look in the eyes.
And I think you're ridiculous,
Causing not much of a fuss.
There is something I don't trust.
In the way you speak to us.
The sarcastic way you grin,
Seals that prison you are in.
Defer the blame to someone else,
Until judgement day begins.
Chase the high before it sinks.
Lose a lifetime as you blink.
You're so unchained, just not enough,
To tell her what you really think.
Would it were an open sea,
Like the air in all your dreams.
But I know what you've gone through.
You're just trapped in the Men's Room.
|
||||
Justin's Wonderful Time Guelph, Ontario
The most wonderful music imaginable is just one swift click away.
Justin's Wonderful Time recommends:
Triplexity Alacre
by Mamok Zalku
Just let go and drift. Look out for Mamok Zalku on Twitch this year.
go to album
<3 you. Recorded in a freezing basement, under the past's deafening notifications.
go to album
The Music Industry is Poisonous
by LUCY
Poet. Composer. Beat producer. Art as proof of freedom. Audibly ecstatic. I feel real kinship with this project. Not since Ylvis has anyone done this much to put Massachusetts on the map.
go to albumIf you like Justin's Wonderful Time, you may also like:
An introspective record that fuses post-rock, shoegaze and ambient synth patches into a seamless array of shimmering soundscapes.
go to album
Influenced by music of the Pacific Northwest, drowse riffs on detachment, memory and the relationship to "self."
go to album
A forward-looking record that imagines the future of Rio de Janeiro, built on intimate textures, ambient, drone, classical, and bossa nova.
go to album
