Hugh Allen laid down some music prior to a bout of basement flooding. Doc Pickles mopped up with vocals. Photo by Chad Storie. Tigerbomb are Hugh Allen, Emmet Rogan, and Doc Pickles.

Hugh Allen laid down some music prior to a bout of basement flooding. Doc Pickles mopped up with vocals. Photo by Chad Storie. Tigerbomb are Hugh Allen, Emmet Rogan, and Doc Pickles.

Hugh Allen laid down some music prior to a bout of basement flooding. Doc Pickles mopped up with vocals. Photo by Chad Storie. Tigerbomb are Hugh Allen, Emmet Rogan, and Doc Pickles.

Hugh Allen laid down some music prior to a bout of basement flooding. Doc Pickles mopped up with vocals. Photo by Chad Storie. Tigerbomb are Hugh Allen, Emmet Rogan, and Doc Pickles.

Hugh Allen laid down some music prior to a bout of basement flooding. Doc Pickles mopped up with vocals. Photo by Chad Storie. Tigerbomb are Hugh Allen, Emmet Rogan, and Doc Pickles.

Why Can't I Just Be A Norman? by Tigerbomb

Just fooling with a different treatment in an old song.

A demo used in an electronica song on 1920. I had originally imagined this to be like a Hank Williams Jr. style overproduced New Country song, done well for irony, about a drunk making a deal with the devil while intoxicated. This is the demo for posterity in case I get to produce it one day.

I'm the one in love, love is all I'm thinking of. I'm up, I'm up with the birds, I don't chirp, I bring cardinal perch. Love in my feet, love in the heat. Love in my shoes, every step shines through, thinking of you, I feel it too. Welcome back, welcome back, you've been finding each new track takes you back. Won't you come back? Won't you come back? Won't you come back? Back? Finding in you, finding in you half a locket, I have it too, welcome back. Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back, welcome back, this loving is best.

Breaking my pane on the road to go and pluck at my heartstrings, drinking champaigne, ah what a state I've attained! That's a mighty clean glass plane smacking my brain, can't see a thing. On the road to Damascus, slow, changing my name, feeling great shame, but the suit and power was great. Border agent cosplay, need I explain? I think I'd like to explain: Met a bush on a road, it caught fire and started raining toads, evey drop it was black with oil, skin or steel, touch corrodes. Oh sun king, what were you even thinking? Power eats away like a weevil in your brain. Should have stuck with the champagne, like bubbles that pop or golf restraint, cane sugar? Sure, why not. The aim is to explode, release, heat and cool the stone, light the sky on fire just to spell your name: The walrus is Don. Drinking up my pain on the road to go and pluck at my heartstrings, drinking champagne. What a state I've attained, That's a mighty clean glass plane smacking my brain, can't see a thing. On the road to Damascus, slow, changing my name, feeling great shame, but the suit and power was great. I really think I should explain, border agent cosplay, someone really should explain: Laid my head on a stone, for years and years I lay, left a mark where my head had been, but the thoughts were deep, and the depeest thoughts remained in the stone. Spinning round and round and round the stone, spinning round and round and round my bones, spinning round and round and round the stone.