Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox, pink wine Spencer Lee - drums, lead guitar, piano Recorded at Scout Studios   All Hands On Bed If you dance in that dress the night is a problem met we'll play catch with our breath all hands on bed passion in the pantry the secret of the century the wine, the coke, the bonhomie thanks for inviting me to your party the collapse of a slip strap a furtive look towards where I'm at if love is a ship of state let's wait (wade?), let's wade (wait?) I can carry a tune  if someone else is carrying it too Reading Chekov in your guest room while you and your husband make love I'm only half-listening, it's only half that I want we're present enough to not regret we can't rely on the things that we meant so I'll just lay here quietly while you set fire to that bed I can carry a tune if someone else is carrying it too I won't miss a beat anything goes when nobody leads I've been caught and released caught in relief           Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox Laris Kreslins - drums Joel "Hill Street" Rose - keys Robin Hendrickson - bass Recorded on the first day of January 2008 (or something?) at Atlantic Sound in Brooklyn, NY   Eunice Eunice, we both like the meek so turn the other cheek and look at me, look at me you're sweet when you experiment with love when will the boys grow up? And look at thee look at thee You took the train down to this regrettable town you put your tongue in my mouth and we both spun around then you tapered off a warm signal gone silent with that look on your mouth and that one half-closed eyelid Did it? Did it? Did it? Did it mean? All the once possible things... the dreams we assembled in that bed... the sounds you made in my head... Each morning is a new page blank and white and it gives the worst stage fright What should I write? Should I write? Or stall? The clock pounds on the wall, the big hand laps the small You must have a ball to drop the ball When we hit the town now it does not make a sound the once inimitable and proud aren't talking so loud We no longer go out and our skin wrinkles now we still use our mouths but just words come out Does it? Does it? Does it mean? That all the once possible things were lost between the moves unchosen by choosing not to choose So sleep and savor every breath of that great cousin of death Count the sheep and steal the sheets You sneak! Take refuge in the bed, where all the make pretend sparks delight, turns out alright The fingerprints on your arm fade like cellphone bars, your breathing blows hard but your body grows calm Just because you shuddered doesn't make him your lover it's the weight of the arm the one to the other Doing it, doing it, doing it, seems like all the impossible things coalesced into a simple sentence The aftershocks of our past the delirium tremens	Brendan Francis Newnam - vox and guitar Laris Kreslins - drums Joel Rose - keys Ben Riesman - guitar Recorded on one cold afternoon in Philadelphia. Touch Me Ardor! His royalty retreats from the bruised flesh of a peach A thumb on her mouth A reed for her heat An alabaster limb A cannelini bean A guitar pick of soap to help the dirty come clean And do you want to know what the best is? Someone called your bluff and left you a message Love must be just Touch me ardor Games can be thrown Kiss me harder Then don't leave me alone The broken buckle on his belt Tells you how she really felt Withdrawn from the well Killed by the belle A naked leg upon the tub Thumps enough's enough "There is treasure in this chest, but it holds no regrets" She puts the computer to her ear And the diplomats appear Love must be just Touch me ardor Games can be thrown Kiss me harder Then don't leave me alone   Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox Laris Kreslins - drums Spencer Lee - bass, vox Jiha Lee - keys, vox Recorded over wine at Scout Studios My Appetites First of all I love you, like a sage leaf, cut where the veins meet the aroma a symphony, savory and then sweet, swoon Like a pork tenderloin, cut into a dozen coins, coated in fennel seeds, then roasted perfectly Like the first glass of wine that hits and you start to shine a warm concierge to escort you beyond your cars This is my way of saying, You're a little fish I like filleting! You're a little bird I like to roast! You're the greatest thing since toast... with jam and butter maybe honey covered the crunch of the crust, combines with the rust colored tea (and now I'm adding cream!) Like a melon wrapped in meat you give me salt and then that sweet cold explosion wrapped in the ocean This is my way of praising You're a chicken thigh that needs braising! A radish on a bed of little gem! The tippy-top of the creme de la creme... brulee, after the flambeau A tap on the skin reveals the custard within Like a stiff drink that steels your nerves before you speak Send your thoughts all fluttery In love with everything This is my kind of luck You're the kind of oyster I'd like to shuck! The sugar on my Turkish delight! The antidote to my appetites! My appetites