String Theory

by Moonraker

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credits

released 29 April 2014

Nick Sucks - Vocals / Bass
David Green - Drums / Vocals
Adam Thomas - Guitar

All music and lyrics written by David Green and Nick Sucks

Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Chris Collier (CMC21 Productions)
recorded at Command Studios and Mission Black Studios in Valencia, California
mixed and mastered at Mission Black Studios

Adam Thomas helped us out immensely on this recording. From playing guitar to the artwork and layout, he's a great friend and we can't thank him enough.
The same can be said for Chris Collier who always puts up with our lack of preparedness/musicianship/money and somehow makes us sound listenable.

Matt Fullove lent me his floor tom and crash cymbal
Sean P. Smith lent us his guitar and head
Mugzey Muzic let me use their awesome snare
Dan Borruel let us borrow his bulletin board
Nick Green brought us lunch at the studio and wore a trench coat on the cover
Javier martinez had nothing to do with this recording, but I promised him I'd thank him the next time I got a chance to do liner notes. So there you go. Thanks. Miss ya.

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about

Moonraker Santa Clarita, California

Its just like the story of the grasshopper and the octopus. All year long the grasshopper kept burying acorns for winter while the octopus mooched off his girlfriend and watched TV. Then the winter came, and the grasshopper died, and the octopus ate all his acorns and also he got a racecar. Is any of this getting through to you? Moonraker is a punk band from southern California ... more

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Track Name: Post-Crisis Origins
So comfortable in my stance
with no offers to shake my hand.
Can't make a difference with ideals,
come back when you've got cash and friends.
These principles and cheap attacks
don't make them think, just make them laugh
their way to the nearest ATM,

A hand-out would be nice, to tell the truth.
Can't take another week, how could I handle 52?
But I guess there's still some things that I believe in.
And if they're all gonna leave, then let's give them a reason,

The apartment is empty.
Just me and my integrity.
But he only wants to talk to me
about other people's stability,

But I don't have to tell the truth,
not with a cyanide capsule inside of my tooth.
Cause I guess there's still some things that I believe in.
And if they're all gonna leave, then let's give them a reason,

If the frame's not crooked, would anybody notice
it's covering up holes in the wall?
And if I pour my heart out and no one cares to hear it,
did I even make a sound at all?
Track Name: The Tontine
I'm up all night building boats,
cause you spend your days digging moats
and filling your life raft with bullet holes
for an excuse to have trouble staying afloat.

My heart was made of stunt glass,
but my life was a crash test.
Now these kevlar ventricles
Help keep out the shrapnel

Cause you'd rather burn everything
like you were sick and I was made of velveteen.
But I'll be the last one out of the building.
With all the silver linings and copper wire I can carry.

So I'll be up tonight infringing on more copyrights
and telling myself I'll be fine enough times that I think I'm right.
So don't bother sticking around,
cause I can wait everyone else out.

So burn everything.
Like you were sick and I was made of velveteen.
But I'll be the last one out of the building.
With all the silver linings and copper wire I can carry.

Cats and dogs in the clouds above my liver,
stroke my rabbit's foot with my trigger finger.
I hold on to my will to live
with a Malkovich-esque grip,

Burn everything.
Like you were sick and I was made of velveteen.
But I'll be the last one out of the building.
With all the silver linings and copper wire I can carry
Track Name: Back from the Dead Assholes!
It's a shorter list then I'd care to admit:
the people who are proud of me who don't have to be.
Indifference might be all that's left.
Blood that should be in my forehead's on your kitchen floor instead.

Shred the documents and my fingerprints.
Write my final words in the sheet music,
and have the boys in the bandstand
give me a four-four stomp so my feet can feel
now that the eggshell scars have all but healed.
But you don't understand,

What goes on behind my back I'll never know,
but it won't help me pick up the phone
when there's a call on hold from everyone I've ever known,
waiting for the chance to say we told you so.

I'm so fucking sick of skeletons,
my closet's full of circulatory systems.
and they're covered in ants instead of covered in secrets,
I can breathe through the failures I can't live with the regrets,

Shred the documents and my fingerprints.
Line the fireplace with the manuscripts,
and have the boys in the bandstand
give me a four-four stomp so my feet can feel
now that the eggshell scars have all but healed.

Leave me someplace that I've never been,
I'll tear my passport up and start again
Track Name: Terminal Dissatisfaction
You said, "Thus, always to tyrants.
To dreams you are a slave."
I can't wait to show you just how much I haven't changed.
And I've been here before,
I know how this one's gonna end:
the two of us never speaking again,

Skeleton keys on a janitor's ring,
there's nowhere to hide that I can see,

I'm not walking in circles,
I'm walking straight through nine of them.
I was never gonna change the world,
you were never gonna hold your breath.
Even if I got someone to listen,
they'd roll their eyes at my opinions on religion,
or how the whole human condition scares me to death.

Skeleton keys on a janitor's ring,
there's nowhere to hide that I can see,
If I die in this dream, she'll kill me in my sleep.
I'll leave when the job's done, to hell with dignity,

Put that glove down, you're not leaving
with the satisfaction you're demanding.
Plus one RSVP, cause I'll be bringing hell with me.
Unto the breach, dear friends. I'm falling asleep again.

Skeleton keys on a janitor's ring,
there's nowhere to hide that I can see.
If I die in this dream, she'll kill me in my sleep.
I'll leave when the job's done, to hell with dignity.
Track Name: Now Is the Shark Week of Our Discontent
Still taking two steps back
when I could be miles away by now.
Wasting time second guessing
while my second chance is bleeding out.
And right before it's head hit the ground,
I was nowhere to be found.
I was up in the clock-tower attaching the silencer.

Me at 16 would call me a piece of shit
if he had a time machine, and he'd be right.
But he doesn't know yet, what I do in hindsight:
everything he touches turns to pyrite.
One day all his hope filled eyes
will ever know are severed ties.
Drinking all the time when he thought he'd never,
so now who's got their shit together?

A typewriter in a room full of chimps,
a cigarette break on a hydrogen blimp.
I'm two sides of an accident:
happy or just waiting to happen.
Everyone got seasoned in their travels,
but I still hit more foreheads then apples.

Oh no! There's no future, no forgiveness,
no rest for the wicked, so let's keep swimming.
Oh yeah! Fuck nostalgia! Fuck the past!
The good old days aren't gonna last,
but the shitty ones go just as fast!