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Paradigms and Hydrocarbons

by Moody Booty

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stick and poke my senses clean. Bayly might have said it best. if i turn an anxious green internalize eternally. add a state now to the list of places where i could be bitten- add a state now to the list of places where i could be smitten i found someone who would call me on a sunday, livid yet tough with resentment for the mundane. im not in love like a concept or a story, but ive seen enough to lament distant warnings hang with lax bros on the weekends, attention seeks attention seeking- doesnt change deep inner feelings, leaves jealous zealots stoned a reeling. here and there we come in contact a week at most a day at best, find a state not dominated by shooting those whos passers tress
Joe Panic 03:41
joe joe eyes that shine in super apartments, joe joe heads up singing an swinging in dartmouth joe panic its just perfect in the moment yes we know nobody could beat joe panic joe joe everyone who lives with their parents knows deprecated self appearance, joe panic its just perfect in the moment yes we know nobody could beat joe panic
Teleport 03:59
if i told you of the truth: the rowdiness, the stench of puke i found myself upon this afternoon. we sweat onto stained sheets of blue but loneliness is what ensued, its better than regretting a tattoo im on the outside, im on the outside looking in and i know just when love begins. to say "im on the outside" is nearsighted and incomplete, this advice is not unique she didnt listen to advice from all her peers, i hope his music strange and pretty weird, so much so that when it disappears it lingers still and pierces right through both her ears study drugs and strict curfews cant guarantee a better mood, my stubbornness trumps a need for food. my grades a hive too many bees that swarm my thoughts and sting my teeth- why do i care about the obsolete? bright and shiney with an aura of dismay, hes got a telport to come and take you away. now and then it gets just too much to fare, hes got a telaport to take you there
hold me in your armaments far above the day, im not a maniac it just might seem that way. hours and distance create false brigades, rural pennsylvania never seemed to strange paradigms and hydrocarbons, anxious sleep and facist jargon carsick on chocolate, comfort by brandname. sleep on the groundfloor, try to rearrange, smoke like salmon, salty and orange, a dollar in the city in this day and age
@@@%& 06:14
it was cloudy on eastern parkway, blossoming trees on through eyes end. in the courtyard or by the fireside, spinning all the great ideas. i was better when we woke up than i had ever been before. i dont need a metaphor. we now live our lives in two, empty handed misconstrued, all thats left to do is consume. i seek comfort in a screen, its not obscure its not unique, however much i claim to be in the morning through the sunlight, i felt peace and ease at last. but from a distance, disguised in cloudy, chance of rain and overcast. it seem to me that in early august everyone is breaking up. im either rambling or im shut up in my head a love was true, i would jump the avenue, just to keep these thoughts a new. zooming fast on through the night a speeding cab it would collide, with what used to be alive smoke surrounds your outfit, lets start a family, lets dress in black and fall asleep. nicotine and coffee, i know its mainstream, but its what keeps you awake. we could make waffles on winter mornings, in old brick creaky buildings, then march slowly onward- you are cool and i am chilly
Braxton 03:40
we were on route 70 when i stopped for gas at a small intersection, two bucks a pop just west of durham. we were only 17 and sighed, rebel nostalgia east of texas, starts on bars and i dont mean xanax, there all on xanax braxton bragg :( relics of these past lives, statues and fading street signs county names are just a few shrines. we was just a child, despite travelling up to school at west point, better than the best tom said he had no choice. i sent the invoice


Paradigms and Hydrocarbons by
Moody Booty

special thanks to our moms and dads


released February 28, 2017

Moody Booty's
Max Ripps - Guitars and Singing
Oliver Divone - Bass and Singing
Isaac Pincus - Drumming and Singing

With help from
Reuben Gifford- Synth on Track 3
Sonia Edwards - Synth on Track 5
Cullen Riley-Duffy - Synth, Melodica and Theremin on Tracks 1, 2, and 4
Brandom McManus - Protools operator

Songs written by Max Ripps and Moody Booty
Produced by Oliver Divone, Max Ripps and Isaac Pincus
Recorded at Funkadelic Studios and Reed Rec B Room, New York City

Album Artwork by Tanya Chernyak

it's lit @ Reed Rec Productions.


all rights reserved



Mooty Boody New York, New York

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