Scatterbrain

by Scatterbrain

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00:52
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05:34

credits

released December 2, 2014

This record was engineered, produced, recorded, mixed, and mastered by Richard Gavalis at Domesound Studio, in Royersford PA.

All songs were written and performed by Scatterbrain.

Music on Track 5 was written with the assistance of Shawn Williams.

Music on Track 6 was written and performed by Nick Elmer of Science Club.

Additional guitar work on Track 8 was written and performed by Ryan Voelker.

All lyrics were written by Nick Gregorio.

Album artwork by Richard Minino AKA HORSEBITES.

CD sleeve and disc layout and design by Jennifer Norton.

This record is dedicated to the loving memory of Mikey Tompkins II.

Special thanks to Nick Elmer, Ryan Voelker, Jennifer Norton, Dave Hyde, Richard Minino, Richard Gavalis, Nate Adams, the Gregorio family, Science Club, Never Ender, Grayson, KarbomB, Seagulls, the Escape, Rough Justice, Dugout, Welter, 502 South, Speedway Scene, Lansdale Local, and 215 Booking.

Please visit:
Facebook: Scatterbrainpunk
Twitter: @Scatterbrainpa
Instagram: @scatterbrain_punk

Scatterbrain is:
Nick Gregorio (Guitar/Vox)
Eric Jaen (Guitar)
Bob Maiden (Drums)
Rory Staub (Bass)
Tim Carty (Coach)
Jennifer Norton (Graphic Artiste)

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about

Scatterbrain Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Scatterbrain is a punk rock band from Philadelphia. They play fast songs with rather sad lyrics.

Contrary to the lyrics and aggressive nature of their music, they are a group of upbeat, polite fellows.

They will, however, crotch-chop any person they deem worthy of a hardy "SUCK IT!!!"

They hope you enjoy the tunes!

If not, well, SUCK IT!!!
... more

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Track Name: ADHD with Narcissistic Tendencies Exacerbated by Caffeine and Comic Books
I’m on a steady diet of sugar and sweets,
barley, hops, and caffeine.
I drink the ink from every fountain pen I can
get my hands on, and then
puke that shit up just to see what sticks
to the soles of my shoes. I’ll pick
up the pace as I race through my brain,
stomping a map, marking each day.

And I’ll tattoo
every last bruise
on the face
of everything I do.

I’ll scatter my brains on each page to gain some piece of mind, and staple my skull shut with nickel-wound wires and come to life.

I surf along each nerve right through
grey matter.
Traversing maps that can define my life
and smile lines.
These are the marks I’ve made along
winding roads.
I mix metaphors while standing firm
on constant shifts in fault lines.

And I’ll tattoo
every last bruise
on the face
of everything I do.

There’s something to be said living within the space of a synapse.
An electric pulse to the heart muscle can make the biggest difference.

I’m not sick but I will speak with an 8-track therapist,
who can burn my thoughts to plastic discs I can peddle to folks who’ll listen.

My mind will race until every last stain has been washed away.
Track Name: Stars and Star Maps
No sound escapes
my mouth as I
scream to a sky that’s not listening.
But I still scream,
and the stars still shine
light that never reached me in time.

And now I see
that I have wasted my voice
on fantasies created by my grief

There is an urn
encased in a shrine,
and I have yet to
stop on by.
There was a life
I chose to ignore,
but there are stars up there
with something in store.

This is the last
of my second
chances, and I know
that these decisions
will hinge on this.
And I have no clue...
What to do

Wake me up next time you’re down,
but from that perch I can’t imagine how
the ground
holds any sort profound
meaning anymore as I’m
hard-pressed to find any type of design,
or a sign,
or a hand to lead all us blind.

There is no one
watching me now
If you are, I’d like to know.

This is the last
of my second
chances, and I know
that these decisions
will hinge on this.
And I have no clue
what to do.
Track Name: Does Elmer Fudd Have Trouble with the Letter "R"?
I’m a deer in headlights,
scared stiff and wide eyed,
waiting for my bones to be smashed to dust.
My guts are twisted,
tied up with heartstrings,
churning up the shit I have become.

It’s a shame to find out too late
that a hunter’s come and flayed
off of all your skin,
leaving muscle and tendons,
putting your insides on display.
It’s hard enough just to cope
with your guts being exposed.
But to be poked and prodded,
and then forgotten?
What is left but to decompose?

Hang me on the wall
for everyone to see.
I’m a decoration to you.
You’re an enemy to me.
If I come down off that wall
and attempt an escape,
would you come and pursue me?
I’d lead you on a merry chase

Bullets won’t put me down.
You’ll have to come gut me yourself.
Perhaps if you catch me, you could convince me
to follow you home
If you’ve got the guts to wait,
and if you’re stuck on catching me,
observe all my patterns,
uncover what matters,
and make my innards worth the wait

I’m a decoration. You’re an enemy.
Track Name: (What Are You Waiting For?) I Don't Know. Something Amazing, I Guess
I define discord.
I’m distorted.
An atonal note in a nasty chord.
I’m a squealing pinch
harmonic.
I’m all tinnitus and self indulgence.

I’m screaming but you probably aren’t listening.
I’m a bit abrasive for your taste.
If I could sing, I would, I swear.
So I’ll have to scream until you hear
what I’ve been holding in for years.

I’m a whole step down.
A compromise
between integrity and a cliché line.
I’m a complete lack
of melody.
No wonder you sing every song but me.

If I sing softly will you finally watch me?
I’ll stick around in case you show up late.
I’ll run a tab a mile long,
waiting to sing a softer song
until every cent I have is gone.

I’m the minor to your major scale
Equal parts with different appeal.
Track Name: Ghosts in the Antiques
The air is chilled tonight.
It’s a crying shame, because everything was so warm
and bright
that optimism poured
down from the sky,
but I missed the storm
by staying inside.

I still watch the sky
for some kind of sign.

The sun shines less bright these days,
but the stars have made new constellations,
blazing a path, forming a map,
pointing to your star.

The clouds have been wrung out,
raining the blackest ink,
engulfing me,
and it has been absorbing,
seeping into my
scarred up skin,
forming a tolerance for condolences.

The storm’s been heavy here,
drowning faith in tears

If there’s nothing after this,
I’ll follow you to nothingness.
With your maps of space,
I hope one day I’ll find you there.

In spite of everything
I’m still standing, living.

If there’s nothing after this
I’ll follow you to nothingness,
so you won’t be nothing alone as nothing.
As nothing we’ll be free.
Track Name: (What Are You Doing?) Getting a Life!
Keeping up
isn’t worth the air I waste
to be part of
a pack of fools I swear I hate.
And I can’t spend
another moment treading in a sea of shit
so deep I begin again.

I don’t want to be
mired knee-deep in failed ideas,
but I cannot see
myself doing anything but looking up.

I’ll find my own way.
I’ll do it how I want.
There’s nothing to be said.
This is all I want.
All I’ll say is I do want I want.

Keep your looks.
Don’t point them in my direction.
I’ll do mine.
You stick to your old routines.
And I can’t spend
another day standing under doubtful eyes
so blank I can’t begin again.

I don’t want to be
mired knee-deep in failed ideas,
but I cannot see
myself doing anything but looking up.

I’ll find my own way.
I’ll do it how I want.
There’s nothing to be said.
This is all I want.
And I can’t
say I’ll
succeed, but I’ll…
Well all I’ll say is I do want I want.
Track Name: Ender
The sun has come up now,
but the chills have stuck around.
And even though I’m so goddamn cold
I’ve thrown out my winter clothes.
To hell with the elements.
I’d rather just get sick,
than spend another hour bundled up in this restrictive stuff.

I’ll tear my coat
to threadbare shreds
to let
my sheltered skin
draw a frigid breath.

Now that I’m exposed,
my skin adjusts to the cold.
And I’ll admit I’m scared to death.
Here’s to hoping it’s all been for the best.
If my skin cracks don’t worry just yet,
I’m just shedding off my diseased
shell in attempt to wrestle my way
back into the sun’s rays.

Are these goosebumps a warning sign,
an omen for the times?
If I cover myself again
will I be sucked right back in
to the gaping maw I called my home.
That warm embrace of wet skin
was an empty place.
I was comfortable.

I’ll tear my coat to threadbare shreds to let
My sheltered skin draw a frigid breath.

Now that I’m exposed,
my skin adjusts to the cold.
And I’ll admit I’m scared to death.
Here’s to hoping it’s all been for the best.
If my skin cracks don’t worry just yet,
I’m just shedding off my diseased
shell in attempt to wrestle my way
back into the sun’s rays.