Saturn is the birthplace of lies
For the house of sirens need to get flying
While a murder hides to roam in beds
The sitting duck had torn its ligament tending upwards
And the couch I built from seaweed
Was cooking in the sun
It smelled like scissors
As it marched around the holy space - where seagulls landed once
But I've met my match
It's the last batch I'll bake
A score for the visitor's house I'll make
And I've met your dad
He pushed a rake my way
No more with the garden,
my green thumb is turning grey
Re-live the rip-roaring, hooky-as-hell punk rock of The Hissyfits with this new collection, which compiles their first two cassettes. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 30, 2024
On their first new record in six years, the Virginia garage punkers take on the end of the world with the requisite clang and clamor. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 9, 2024