Chonny Jash - You Sound Like Louis Burdett

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CONTENT WARNINGS:
Substance Use, Se*ual Imagery, Emetophobia, Sui*idal Imagery, Coarse Language


Fun Fact:
My friends and I did a Music League a while back and someone put in a custom round called 'Power Hour', in which everyone had to suggest a song they'd like me to cover - I have supportive friends :) - and this is the song that won.
I was initially just playing along for a laugh but I actually became somewhat obsessed with this song and it seemed like it really would be super fun to cover, so I did! (And I was right, it was extremely fun)

Double Fun Fact:
That photo is genuine, from a night during which we were MEANT to film a music video.
I got too drunk, and thus, there isn't enough footage for one.
Oh well!
But who knows, the footage we did get may just come back another day...


Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2hvnt...
SoundCloud:   / chonny-jash  
Bandcamp: https://chonnyjash.bandcamp.com

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LYRICS:

Had a little bit to drink.
There's a little thing I want at a do out East, yeah.
(There's a little thing I wanted to do out East, yeah.)
Now, nothing too emotional.
My good, Miss.
(My goodness.)
I couldn't be serious in a room full of jack-knife eyes.
(I couldn't be serious in a room full of jack-knife vibes.)
Stop talking 'bout the years.
You sound like Louis Burdett.

Now we roll on to my back shed.
Play some poker. Scratch my head.
Look at the sky and spot the planes.
Where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches down the aisles and down the streets.
The weeks roll by.
Roll by.

I'm chewing ice and grinning.
I'm spewing up and spinning.
For Iz, it's bilious-usiness as usual in his corner of the kitchen.
Hey, you!
Now, lose that friend before we go anywhere.
What?
Someone might see you alone?
Stop baggin' out the band.
You sound like Louis Burdett.

Yeah, and all my friends are fuck-ups, but they're fun to have around.
Banana chairs out on the concrete, telling stories to the stars
how Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah,
how down the streets, the weeks roll by.
Roll by.

The moment the night wears off, the bombsite reappears.
They're all asleep, but the morning tastes like bile.
It tastes so vile in Tempe.
I feel so fucked I just might wake him up.
Pat him on the bald head.

Tell me about a dream, Louis.
Something obscene, Louis.
Your life's an open magazine, Louis.

Now, I'm stoned in a bookshop, sober in a nightclub.
Sex is everywhere, but nowhere 'round me.
...nowhere.
By the time she gets to Marrickville, we'll be masturbating.
Never rains in Tempe.
The planes remind me of family money and the lack down here.
Stop talking frustrated,
'cos I sound like Louis Burdett!

Yeah, now we roll on to my back shed.
Play some poker. Scratch my head.
Look at the sky and spot the planes.
Where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches down the aisles and down the streets.
The weeks roll by.
Roll by.

Yeah, and all my friends are fuck-ups, but they're fun to have around.
Banana chairs out on the concrete, telling stories to the stars
how Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah,
how the weeks roll by.

Now most of my friends are very fruity indeed, such fun to have around.
Tragedy - like charity - begins at home.

Now, Cass don't like madness...
...oh, but madness likes him.
He's got a finger in his chest,
oh, just saying how it should have been.

Now, Mae Mae may make do -
if you give the man a gram or two -
if you're lucky enough to see him -
oh, if you're lucky enough that he made the trip down to see you.

Oooooohhhh, that's Izzy.
He's at his peak now, isn't he?
His key's fizzy,
dizzy with something illicit he can't quite afford but'll keep his mind busy.

And Chel's taken some time off the Jim!
...but surely not as much as it took off him.
The well runs dry, he's poured it down the sink,
oh, just saying how it should have been.

And Tee's beak's stuck in the middle of them all.
He's caught a whiff of the peak, but he's scared of the fall.
He's got it made!
The rock star!
The talk of the town!
But that don't mean shit in a town this small!

And he's scared of nothing more than him;
The raucousness in his head and its then-proceeding din;
The hanged skeleton in his closet;
The two fingers at his chin.

All screaming how it should have been.

Now we roll on to my back shed.
Play some poker. Scratch my head.
Look at the sky and spot the planes.
Where would I go on holidays?
Roll with the punches down the aisles and down the streets.
The weeks roll by.

My friends are completely fucked, but they're such fun to have around.
Banana chairs out on the concrete, telling stories to the stars
how Geminis love wooden dragons,
oh, we're down the streets.

The weeks roll by.