Castin Spellz

by The Milligrams

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released October 26, 2012

songs by wick and garrett
artwork by nick gucker
mixed by matthew beaudoin at q division studios
mastered by ian kennedy at new alliance east



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The Milligrams Boston, Massachusetts

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Track Name: You Don't Need To Think
Think you got no place to go?
Well thinking’s so last week bro
In here we’re having fun
All the jams are #1 so you don’t need to think
No you don’t need to think

Need some shelter from the storm?
Our body heat will keep you warm
Pop is my philosophy
Get up here and dance with me
Cuz you don’t need to think
No you don’t need to think

Chaucer, Dante
Who needs that shit? This is LA
In the past we had ambition
Now we’re all on television
Cuz we don’t need to think
No we don't need to think
Track Name: It Girl
Your man seems tired, a little ill at ease
He walked right past me, didn’t notice these
I don’t think the boy doesn’t like what he sees
You just gotta remember they’re too easy to please

You gotta ooze it out of every single pore
To be a queen you gotta be a whore
Make them all cry out for more
And the ones who cry the loudest
They’re the ones to ignore

You gotta be a locomotive on a one track mind
Don’t let him sleep alone when you’re so inclined
Teach him again if he’s forgot to grind
And walk out before the check comes wherever you dine

You gotta get him 'til his eyes are nice and wide
Close the door behind you then invite him inside
Keep your position solidified
It’ll turn him into jelly when the rules are applied

You gotta be absolutely awash in sex
A feral feminine tyrannosaurus rex
You gotta be the chick your face reflects
And you’re guaranteed to be the one he selects

Don’t while away your days when you’ve got feminine wiles
Strut and shout commands like you’re the queen of the Nile
There’s no rule that says you can’t be a slut in style
And there’s nothing else so sacred as being defiled

You gotta let him think that you’ve let him win
Look like a nun when it’s time to sin
Wanna know where to begin?
You gotta make him cry his eyes out before he earns his grin
Track Name: Hey Little Girl
Wearing $5 shades to the dollar store
Made her look a little like a $2 whore
It ain’t your fault he drinks like a fish
It ain’t your fault he breaks every dish
Wears your mascara as his laurel wreath
Though we can tell it’s black and blue underneath

Hey little girl, you could be bigger

Looks like a giant
He’s a hundred feet tall
But he’s only big cuz you chose to be small
It ain’t your fault he spoils your fun
It ain’t Flash Gordon with his laser gun
When he looks with that whisky smile
Why can’t he tell that it tastes like bile?

Ain’t no solution, I’m just a different man
Track Name: Learn To Walk
Hey there mister thinks he Kerouac
Dressed from head to toe in jet black
Shout out to fight invisible enemies
Social diseases that ain’t got no remedies
Can’t you see what’s wrong with your reality?
Can’t you see that you gotta be free?
Nobody’s shocked, you gotta learn to walk

Hey there mister drunk on enmity
You got a problem, it’s that problem with me
Think you gotta fight the folks on the streets at night
Think it’s a sin to have colored skin
Can’t you see that that ain’t racial purity?
Can’t you see it’s not “You or me”?
Won’t get stomped by your docs, you gotta learn to walk

Angel of Judgment shining above me
Can't understand me and won't learn to love me
Think you got it down?
You don’t make a sound
Look under your heel at all them ghosts I found

Hey there mister Lou Reed wannabe
Got a guitar case full of everybody’s sympathy
Fire and strife are how you make your life
Pain and decay are all you got to say
Can’t you see you ain’t got no integrity?
Can’t you see I won’t pay the fee?
You don’t know how to rock, you gotta learn to walk


Hey there mister corporate nobody
Lookin at you I got nothing to see
Selling people a truckload of apathy
Shirt on your back says “As seen on tv”
Can’t you see you ain’t who you wanna be?
You know full well you got nothing to sell
Your souls outta stock, you gotta learn to walk

Hey there mister shoutin the people down
What you done for the folks comin round?
Give em money to stay at the Marriott?
Did you build the homes they ain’t got?
Can’t you see they don’t want no litany?
Can’t you see you’re not the one to be?
I should talk, I gotta learn to walk

Track Name: Freak
I wake up in the morning and I take a good look at the world
And I open up my window and I swear at all the boys and girls
This is how it goes every day of the week
Gotta keep it up so they know I’m a freak

And they say F r e a k
Hey there freak won’t you go away?
F r e a k
We don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say

Sometimes things get better when I go to town
Buy lots of orange Fanta and pick fights with clowns
Harikrishnas at the airport think it’s kinda queer
That I’m holding up a sign that says “The End Is Near”

And they say F r e a k
We already warned you about this twice today
F r e a k
If you come back then we’ll make you pay

Well I would see my girl and walk up to her door
But the restraining order says I can’t do that no more
I go to parties it should work out okay
But my best pickup line is “Well I might not be gay”

And she says K r a f e
That spells Krafe and it’s not a word
K r a f e
I’m not really sure if she’s dyslexic or German

Someday I’ll find somebody who understands
Some unstable chick in leather from an all girl punk band
The kinda girl who digs when you dress up like a cat
Who thinks that sex is better at the laundromat

And she’ll say F r e a k
You’re criminally insane but baby that’s okay
F r e a k
Forget about this normal shit and take me away
Track Name: At Home In Graveyards
Saw Audrey Hepburn, well I can’t say
Think it was her because she rotted away
Dressed like a cat in stolen dime store chic
It really shouldn’t have looked that bleak
She was the goddess type, the regal kind
I want the smile back that struck me blind

At home in graveyards
No future there
No white muslin ladies take me unaware

Five shooting stars, a whole new place
Man in my stomach play Amazing Grace
Sat like a gargoyle protecting the door
My head and heart engaged in civil war
She was the shaman type, the scary kind
She was the only thing she couldn’t find

At home in graveyards
Nobody goes
Everything’s in permanent repose

My poor Ophelia never learned to swim
It seemed that drowning was her only whim
Garland of flowers drifting down the stream
Guess she was heavier than she seemed
She was the virgin type, the withered kind
Sat back and watched as she declined

At home in graveyards
Lonely everywhere else
I need the stories that each spirit tells

Kind and wholesome, painfully pure
A little untried and a lot unsure
Sanctified like a cathedral made flesh
I felt refined but didn’t feel refreshed
She was the angel type, the marrying kind
Prayed so much that her faith resigned

At home in graveyards
Nothing there to break
Don’t need to compromise for safety’s sake

Women come, women leave
Tin soldiers drum and lawyers deceive
Poetic type, tragic kind
With all these sonnets my death warrant’s signed

At home in graveyards
But your garden’s nice
Leave me some flowers as a sacrifice