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Brownwall
By BrownwallMusic
Brownwall episodes
- God of the MoonBetween the pagesAn ancient scrollIncantation spoke too audibleYou bought it lowAnd now it’s grownSpreading like fog over the homeDispel beliefThe unbeknownstSanity draining human hostWe see the changing of the tideA part of me believesIt’s so dangerous to dreamThe God of the Moon agreesYet he fills us with allMarching onTowards violenceEyes gone gray like slateWhere the sunFailed to yieldThe night god owns the dayAll I knowIs filtered throughAnd the best is kept for himWe see the changing of the tideA part of me believesIt’s so dangerous to dreamThe God of the Moon agreesYet he fills us with allI never thought that I'd succumb to the God of the MoonWe see the changing of the tideA part of me believesIt’s so dangerous to dreamThe God of the Moon agreesYet he fills us with allJohn Makarewicz - DrumsRené Acosta - BassMicah Robinson - GuitarNick Nunziata - VocalsSteve Murphy - Backing Vocals3 min
- Stag Party SpycraftFound a camera in the cupboardAnother in the fanSomeone wants to know what I’m doingEavesdropping on a manFeast your eyes if you want toI’m no stranger to the gameRan interference all my daysNow I run counterintelligence on youGetting fitted for size in the memorial gardenBack of my mind I’m looking for bugsThat’s not the way to ruin my dayThe boys are itching for a crispy eveningAnd my bond is ironcladSo, as I fish the wires from the shelfI don’t think fondly of your plan'til death do us part doesn’t have to be an oathIt could be penciled into my daySo instead of leaving surveillance under the breadMaybe plan your own debaucheryEngage in stag party spycraftYou’ve met your match babeOnly one thing I’m better at than lovin’ youI made my life a series of dangerous gamesAnd if you want to move your piece to this boardRealize you are risking everythingBaby let me have this one escapeThe boys are loaded in the party busAching for some sundownDoors seal up and here’s the gasNumbly watching you have your wayGetting fitted for size in the memorial gardenWasted my time looking for bugsTotally wasted my dayMe and the boys live foreverIn the memorial gardenLast thing I see the smile on your faceWay to play the longest gameNick Nunziata - Drums, VocalsSteve Murphy - GuitarMicah Robinson - GuitarCarl Cunningham - Bass4 min
- Meet Me in OblivionIt’s a fine line between living and living wellFinding a heaven in this hellLive in a million years in this momentSteal a vibe and confine itSneak a taste whenever the well is dryIt’s the fightWiseMeet me in oblivionWiseMeet me in oblivionWiseMeet me in oblivionWise beyond the timesSee me in a place between the seamsBonded in perennial dreamsMeet me oblivionClaim your spaceWe’ll ride this beam ad infinitumIt’s the fightSpace and time aphrodisiacInhaling cosmic breeze through open poresAnd open doorsLegends cling to falling rocksGathering speed to blur the bleedNext sight is the last oneUntil the next oneIt’s the fightWiseMeet me in oblivionWiseMeet me in oblivionWiseMeet me in oblivionWise beyond the timesJohn Makarewicz - BassCarl Cunningham - GuitarNick Nunziata - Guitar, VocalsSteve Murphy - Drums4 min
- Long Night Out with the Skin SharkCryptozoology and cryptocurrencyStrange bedfellows like tutors and lobotomyWe find ourselves in the corner of the pubNineteen bottles empty and thirteen shattered and seven to goDigging through the shallows of my old billfoldSeems like every bit of cash went down his old gill holeBartender tells me calmly that my friend has to goDeep sea features on a landlocked sea creatureYeah, he knew his way around the townMaking friends out of his first and second courseBut the ocean will only stay on hold until it’s time for a massacreThough his home’s in the waterHe’s multiculturalA long night out with the skin sharkTells me he needs to go homeOver wine I tell him a story of some long lost goldSomewhere deep beneath the corals lies a lifeline for us bothAll I have to do is make sure not to become his egg rollNick Nunziata - Drums, Guitar, VocalsMicah Robinson - BassSteve Murphy - GuitarCarl Cunningham - Guitar3 min
- Lick ThisThe only mail I don’t hate is hate mail, I love itSpeak your mind and never hold them back, you sickoYou fold it up nice and walk it down the hill, on the coldest daysThere’s so many broken among usTaking up the space we can use for treesOr parking spaceOr fast food spotsOr luncheonettesOr bridal shopsOr taxidermistsOr lotto officesOr pawn shopsOr gold exchangeOr smartphone repairWe need repairHey, next time you’re gonna lick a stampLick thisLick thisRight from the bottom of my heartLick thisRight from the bottom of my heartLick thisUse your bodyNot your penWalk right up to my faceAnd give it to meI think I can take itDon’t hide behind AnonymousDon’t press your lips to paperInsteadLick thisLick thisRight from the bottom of my heartLick thisRight from the bottom of my heartLick thisUse your bodyNot your penWalk right up to my faceAnd give it to meI think I can take itDon’t hide behind AnonymousDon’t press your lips to paper againSteve Murphy - DrumsRené Acosta - BassMicah Robinson - GuitarNick Nunziata - Keyboards, Vocals4 min
- Caught a StrayReading my name on the back pageWhatever you said got legsMy plans in disarrayBecause your storytelling brain leaks like a grateThis won’t boil over todayAm I right?I’m feeling so violatedCan you see my pride slipping awayThis is supersized in my mindYou spilled your beans and I caught a strayVans populate the front of the houseFlashbulbs and microphones in my faceWagging tongue on the nighttime newsAnd now the hairs on my balls are turning grayThe ball is my court todayAm I right?I’m feeling so inundatedCan’t you see my eyes losing their glaze?This is a turning point in my mindYou spilled your beans and I caught a strayYou told me you were a steel trapNow Mary where’s your grace?Privacy on the public stageNow my darkest itch is scratching brightEverything I have is on the blockA simple shift in propertyThey had you on a meager chargeSo you went and parked the bus on my faceThey say revenge can taste so sweetAm I right?I’m feeling so agitatedCan you see my smile getting frayed?Need the anti-venom in my bloodYou spilled your beans and I caught a straySteve Murphy - DrumsCarl Cunningham - BassJohn Makarewicz - GuitarNick Nunziata - VocalsMicah Robinson - Guitar5 min
- Sayonara EarthJohn Makarewicz - DrumsCarl Cunningham - BassMicah Robinson - GuitarNick Nunziata - Keyboards1 min
- Brittle UsA letter unsent airs the darkest truthsBrittle usWe apologize for all the bad bloodBrittle usWe fester inside building a claimBrittle usThe edge of a cliff staring at rocksBrittle usAwaiting their feast without a pauseBrittle usWe're resigned to a fate without a fightBrittle usWe brandish the sword that we fall uponBrittle usThe gravediggerMeasures our sizeSend me packingBuried my disguise in sandCause now I'm willingI'm tired of watching us fall down on flattened groundSuch a softened stateWith bones so brittle we should call it a dayThe gravediggerMeasures our sizeSend me packingBuried my disguise in sandCause now I'm willingMicah Robinson - GuitarJohn Makarewicz - DrumsSteve Murphy - BassNick Nunziata - Vocals4 min
- Sweet Young ThingMama always warned her to walk on the right side of the roadOncoming traffic at least shows its handInstead of that blindsightNo use for hindsightFine china shatters just as easilyGoodbye sweet young thingSandpaper hands caress the faceNo need to learn the lessonWide eyes bear the truth I'm guessingWhy do I have to be right this timePrized possessions die just as easilyGoodbye sweet young thingBlindsight keeps me off the roadFather figure strained by allegationGood intentions mean less than ever nowGoodbye sweet young thingMicah Robinson - GuitarNick Nunziata - Bass, VocalsJohn Makarewicz - DrumsSteve Murphy - Guitar, Backing Vocals3 min
- Glances on the Firing LineA little of the ultraviolenceSlumped under a shady treeVanilla on a cone of silenceThis is not what his parents thought he'd beThey exchange glances on the firing lineIt's all underlinedWhen you trade your mindBrutal winters on a Western coastSights and sounds that don't belongStore bought reaper on a stolen postThis is not what my parents thought I'd beThey exchange glances on the firing lineIt's all underlinedWhen you trade your mindThey exchange glances on the firing lineIt's all underlinedWhen you trade your mindNick Nunziata - Guitar, VocalsSteve Murphy - Drums, BassMicah Robinson - Guitar2 min
About Brownwall
From the publisher's feed
We make music for our own sanity. Whatever mood strikes. Whomever from the circle is available. For over two decades. Cheapest therapy in the world. We hope you find some joy in it too.