The Basement Tapes

by Wiredogs

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1.
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02:40
3.
4.
04:30

about

'The Basement Tapes' was made with eight inputs and a laptop. Recorded on four separate occasions, each track took on it's own unique identity. Some songs were tracked completely live, others we're recorded piece by piece. We tried to keep the sound of the basement intact while still pushing the limits of our crummy gear.

credits

released May 13, 2014

All songs written, recorded, mixed and mastered by Wiredogs in Fort Collins, CO.

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Wiredogs Denver, Colorado

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Track Name: The Last Stronghold
Jubilant fighters fire weapons in the air
the bombastic autocrat lies dead on the stairs
as car horns punctuate like flares
rising over Tripoli

Amidst fears of fragmentation
amidst brutality came retaliation
fighting fiercely for the freedom of a nation
they are rising over Tripoli
rising over Tripoli

But ten men stand aligned
their arms crossed
as ten bodies are removed
from a school bus
their souls now
will float up with the dust
rising over Tripoli
rising over Tripoli

wo-oh

But ten men stand aligned
their arms crossed
as ten bodies are removed
from a school bus
their souls now
will float up with the dust
rising over Tripoli
rising over Tripoli
rising over Tripoli
rising over Tripoli

wo-oh
Track Name: I Am A Man
People on the streets
holding signs stomping feet
raise their voices repeat
gospel verses and curses

As a stone faced man
with a club in his hand
finds excuses to hand out
bigoted bruises

Without fear
we will rise
we will cheer
we will cry out

Wooo I am a man
Wooo

Are a mothers dreams
no longer her daughters?
when sirens scream
will we run for cover?
or open our hearts
and bleed for each other
bleed for each other
bleed for each other
bleed for each other

Wooo I am a man
Wooo

Put on their black gloves
they put on their black gloves

Without fear
we will rise
we will cheer
we will cry out

Wooo I am a man
I am a man
Track Name: Lies Of The Times
Where is the riot?
where is the passion?
and have we sold off all our voices
and sold off all our actions
where is the heart?
where is compassion?

and have we finally realized
that we're nauseated by
these prepacked

Lies of the times
like land mines
planted in the streets
where our children run around with bare feet
the message
is consumed like a fascist feast
and it plays on and on
on and on repeat
plays on and on
on and on repeat

Where are the teachers?
where are the lessons?
and why is women's studies
only studied at the mansions
where are the voices?
where are the thoughts?

and have we finally realized
that we're nauseated by

Lies of the times
like land mines
planted in the streets
where our children run around with bare feet
the message
is consumed like a fascist feast
and it plays on and on
on and on repeat
plays on and on
on and on repeat

Lies of the times
like land mines
planted in the streets
where our children run around with bare feet
the message
is consumed like a fascist feast
and it plays on and on
on and on repeat
plays on and on
on and on repeat
plays on and on
on and on repeat
plays on and on
on and on repeat
Track Name: Scars
A picture hangs in the hallway
of my mother on her wedding day
her french tipped fingers
hug and hold my arms
my hands rest reverently within the frame
and momma has her cheek against me head
as if everything will be okay

But I can still taste the wire
like my sister remembers the rain

I wear scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed

Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am

And I remember your face
your face and your tears
oh and how he used to sweat
on those cold winter nights
as his hands would place braces and shake
he claimed it was caused by the anti-depressants
and this silver-lined guilt that rakes my voice
and chokes the sound
is because we never fucking talked about it

But I know I still taste the wire
like my sister remembers the rain


I wear scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed

Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
I'm a man not a victim

I wear my scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed

Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
I'm a man not a victim
a man not a victim
a man not a victim
a man not a victim