THE CITY
by THE 21ST CENTURY
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We Are Waiters
03:09
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The Parisian Translation
04:53
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about
"The City" is THE 21ST CENTURY's first born. Recorded at Sonic Ranch in El Paso, TX, it showcases high-spirited melodies and off-beat lyrics atop their driving rhythm section, jangly guitars, warm four-part vocal harmonies, and dynamic horn section. It speaks of youthful exuberance, friendship, courtship, hardship, reconciliation with adulthood, migrating from small towns to big cities, and the poetry of everyday life. Its backdrop: San Francisco. "The City" will be released on Friday, January 6th 2012 to correspond with its release show at San Francisco’s Red Devil Lounge.
Featured is their first single, "We Are Waiters". For more information and a free download with a "Like" click, visit: www.facebook.com/the21stcentury
Featured is their first single, "We Are Waiters". For more information and a free download with a "Like" click, visit: www.facebook.com/the21stcentury
credits
released 06 January 2012
Songs by Bevan Herbekian; Music by THE 21ST CENTURY.
Produced by THE 21ST CENTURY. Engineered by Ben Tanner. Additional recording by Kevin Crawford.
Songs by Bevan Herbekian; Music by THE 21ST CENTURY.
Produced by THE 21ST CENTURY. Engineered by Ben Tanner. Additional recording by Kevin Crawford.
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for 
- Track Name: We Are Waiters
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Old mission bells, your alarm clock's a thief.
Oh mission bells sang, "Save me."
Caught like a rock on a dead end of turns.
Lost like a dog tied to a sign.
Stare right into the sun--don't blink
And the light will shatter.
Nothing matters.
Street cleaning nights, conversations are steam.
"Yes, yes, your highness."
Silence.
Silently, I cut up my brain into factions opposed.
Blue is a color--sadly--sadnigo.
Stare right into the sun--don't blink
And the light will shatter.
The titles we take, I'm a waiter of sorts
eating my weight in patience and tip jars.
And as for the special, it is fruitlessly fruit.
All we can do is split hairs and continue.
Stare right into the sun--don't blink
And the light will shatter.
Stare right into the sun. - Track Name: The Parisian Translation
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I found an old rope swing
hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge.
And I sat looking westward
and saw myself off to the distance.
You were in Baghdad painting a flag on a tank.
You said that it was your duty.
You were commissioned by Saddam Hussein.
And like two charlatans, we play dead
attempting to shine on the sun.
But this tomorrow is a love bird,
singing: "Hello there? It's so good to meet you.
You know, I can see you. Je ne sais pas dire, au revoir."
You said that I was a general
returning home from the Civil War.
And you cried when you saw me.
You said, you thought I was lost to the cause.
So we slept double-knotted
thawed by a wood-burning stove.
And we pealed off our skin
and danced around in our bones.
Danced around, danced around.
And we danced.
I said, "Oh my God, no!
I've never seen a reaction like that.
You have got carrots and diamonds
sprouting from the small of your back."
So we run up the doctor
and asked him what he could prescribe.
He said, "Start counting your blessings.
You got carotene in endless supply."
And like two charlatans, we play dead
attempting to shine on the sun.
But this tomorrow is a love bird,
singing: "Hello there? It's so good to meet you.
You know, I can see you. Je ne sais pas dire, au revoir." - Track Name: A Funeral March (The State Of Our Parade)
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What are we doing?
Why do we do it?
I don't want to work
I want to play.
When no one was looking.
It came without warning.
We get two days a week
and three holidays.
And oh ain't life...
A tease.
How did we get here?
Behind a deadbolt
Perfecting the art of loneliness.
We listen to numbers
But not to each other.
We are out of our minds
and stuck in our heads.
We're convinced, we're convinced.
Convinced that this is it.
And even when we fall asleep.
We can't get ahead.
We still stand in line.
And even in our fantasies
We never win,
we're always out of time.
In the beginning,
there was no confusion.
We'd say, "No! I don't want to go."
But we got a present.
A long-drawn out ending.
We're in a funeral march for the insane.
Who swear all of life, all of life
All of Life is Pain.
