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    Immediate download of 24-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire. But considering this particular 'artist', you probably wont want to download a thing.

     

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about

I write 'em rough hewn and undercooked. If you find you like this sort of dirt, lend an ear to my album 'Immortal garbage' (should be complete with 23 songs and lyrics sometime in December 2010) for some straight punk rockers. I smoked even more pot when I made that one. Got a cigarette?
-H

credits

released September 9, 2009

H. Bent-all the stuff

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Helseth Bent Seattle, Washington

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Track Name: Wow!
Congradulations! You've reached level 23.
Now you're high society within the game community.
Congradulations! You've acquired a longer sword.
You're the leader of a horde of nerds like thee.

It all started with Ultima. What a game!
(Fuggin-A!)
And so many others leading up to today.
(Why don't you tell us 'bout it?)
I speed home from work every day
to leave this boring life and be a part of that game. (*mongoloid voices* Game!)

Congradulations! You've reached level 54, feel your wrist becoming sore from the carpal tunnel's bore.
Congradulations! You'd forske the world outside for the wilderness on li-i-i-i-i-i-ine.

I can be a hero(Shave me!), the one they love,
Or I can tell 'em to suck it(What?!), and shed their blood.
I can be so strong, yet so weak-willed.
I can savor the victory of the kill.
(*mongoloid voices* Kill!)

Congadulations! You've reached level 99.
Looking out through sunken eyes. Nearly blinded by the light.
Congradulations! Through the game you've made your mark, and I'm sure that they will talk of you for days!
Track Name: Pizza bikini
Baby's been cookin' up a little suprise.
Messin' the kitchen up. What's for dinner tonight?

No need for stroganof, twist the knob and heat it up,
grab my huevos and beat 'em up, afterwards we'll clean it up...

Hey! I'm hungry. It's been a long day.
I'm just starvin' for...your PIZZA BIKINI!

Leave the heat on,...a little bit longer,...hair's gettin' oily,...
I'm sweating vinegar,...

It's almost ready and I'm forking starvin'!
I been workin' in a wicked garden.
My hands are washed and reachin' out,
to grab her towel and a-pull it down, and now I'm-
eatin' that slice and as it goes down,
rollin' her olive around in my mouth,
a flavor reminiscent of the dirty South...PIZZA BIKINI!

...three times a day,...to keep what I adore,...fresh and tastay...

Hey! I'm hungry. It's been a long day.
And I'm starvin' for...your PIZZA BIKINI!

Leave the heat on,...a little bit longer,...a little bit longer,...a little bit longer,...

It's almost ready and I'm forking starvin'!
I been diggin' in a wicked garden.
My hands are washed and reachin' out,
to grab her towel and a-pull it down, and now I'm-
eatin' that slice and as it goes down,
rollin' them olives around in my mouth,
a flavor reminiscent of the dirty South...PIZZA BIKINI!
Track Name: How many days have I been wearing these pants?
How many days have I been wearing these pants? I couldn't guess, probably weeks.
They smell just like a dog when they are wet, and mutch like the pet, they're carrying fleas.
They stain upon the back is either chili or shit, I don't know which. Sniff it and see.
But I hate doin' laundry and I hate to undress. It causes me stress. It takes to mutch time from my hectic day.

Found a potato chip in the back pocket,
and let me tell ya, son; the Cascade crunch don't quit!
Coins are mixed with lint, the inseam has been ripped,
hair shows through the hole that ventilates my-

BALLS are easy access when they're need'n a scratch. I reach through the gash, and give 'em the treatment.
How many days have I been wearing these pants? I couldn't guess. For some strange reason I can't get a girlfriend.

When I spend my dough laundry's not where it goes.
I'd rather put my coins in Super Mario.
My pants are what keep me warm awhen I sleep.
Though now it's hard to tell if they're leather or jeans!

(super weak guitar solo)

PANTS an ecosystem independent of light
...PANTS a home for critters and a giver of life
......PANTS that smell so bad but I'm so comfortable in
.........PANTS that fit so perfect, yet for whatever reason, I can't get a girlfriend!
Track Name: Fruitflies the size of birds
This dirty apartment, a fithly assortment of flags for my nation of grease.
There's food stuck to dishes and piles of old garbage
that god knows what lies beneath.
Didn't I have a cat once? I'm fairly sure I had one.
I wonder what became of him?
The paths through the garbage must've granted him passage to someplace where seagulls don't live.

And you know it's bad when weeds have begun
to grow so great you'll be overrun.
A closet or a kitchen? I can't be sure.
But I've seen fruitflies as big as the birds.

What once was a trashcan has now become a wildland
of invertibrate lifeforms unkown.
They're forming a union of their own devices to make this their permanent home.

Fruitflies!!
Flies!!
More flies!!

See the little beatles rolling there dung. Roll as mutch as you like, guys, there's more to come.
You know it's bad when weeds have begun
to grow so great you'll be overrun.

Fruitflies!!
Flies!!
More flies!!
Track Name: Stalkin' Amanda Palmer
How's bout it, Baba? Willya marrah me?

I'm-Just a working guy-who smells of welder smoke-and when I punch the clock-I make sure that it's broke.
Spending all my evenin's-in smoky little bars-and I will not forget the first time that I

Saw her sing...it was like she sang for me.
And now I can't sleep at night...while she sings in my mind.

I followed the tour van from Boston to Preoria.
(the govenator)Digging through her hotel's trash in Redding, California.
Almost was discovered when she played in Portland, Oregon.
Got into the mosh pit and I dropped my fake mustache,
man I hate to think of days when we'll be kept apart,
when she's rich enough to have security gaurds.

But when I saw her sing, just like it was like it was just for me
I know someday she will be my wife.
But when I saw her sing, it was like it was just for me
And now, I know what it meant...she wanna have my kids.
But when I saw her sing, she did sing just for me!
She was giving me a sign, she gonna be mah wife.
But when I saw her sing, and she sang just for me!
Now the signals I can read..."Play ukulele with me."

So hows bout it, Babe? Will ya marrah me?
Track Name: Wenatchee, Wenatchee
In a fog the fruiting orchard roused from sleeping stands to greet the morning rays.
And the early risers ready for their working day.
How the bugs are biting. birds are keeping tabs on they.
And the red delicious, strains the branch in-

Wenatchee, Wenatchee.

Irrigation, rattlesnakes, and wooden crosses. Sun beats down to peel their paint.
How the fuit is wrinkled. Bites reveal the taste of taint.
And the glasses gander. Hair has turned from black to grey.
How the dogs that guard it patrol a fence in-

Wenatchee, Wenatchee. Wenatchee, with extra cheese.

Radiation, candles burning, freezing winters. Supplies of french fries they can eat.
And the television glows to warm their naked feet.
How the advertisers squabble over chunks of meat.
And the stores are open with what you need in-

Wenatchee, Wenatchee. Wenatchee, with extra cheese.
Track Name: Pizza bikini 2; 'Pizza bones'
*Belch*!
More and more and more amour,
I never get enough of things that I adore
or
Goin' to the store.
Walk with me a few isles more. You're Pizza bikini's got me goin' beets galore.
Who could ask for more?

Your piz-za biki-ni!
Pourin' the olive oil...on your-pep-proncin-is.
String cheese and garlic adorn...your piz-za biki-ni.
Girl it needs something more...how's-bout-awee-nie.

(*mongoloid voice*)...And I have to pretend I'm normal when I'm at the store.
This pizza bikini's what I'm shoppin' for-
A whore! Vegetarian whore!
They look at me weird for lookin' at the produce wrong, so I move along.
On down to the isle where perverts all belong.

Piz-za biki-ni!
Pourin' the olive oil...on your-pep-proncin-is.
String cheese and garlic adorn...your piz-za biki-ni.
Girl it needs something more...how's-bout-awee-nie.

Uh-AAaaah! Save a slice for slave boy!
Never felt compelled to eat this way before.
Who could ask for more?
The slippery, slutty slice is savored sliding slowly south. Something so sour.
I hate it when there's enough of what I adore.

Your piz-za biki-ni...
...Piz-za biki-ni...
......Piz-za biki-ni...
.........Piz-za biki-ni...
.......................Pizza bikini 2!.......................
Track Name: Deng land
Time to write some words again...and the words that come to mind first pertain to a good friend who's good in nature.

When he feels bad? Well, he's hard pressed to show it and quick to forget.
He's up a tad, or he's medicated and not movin' too fast.
What be the case? Yes he'd kindly greet ya if you'd show him repect.
Within their base they've got things to share with you including air space.

Born in a cave in '78.
A day too short and a dollar too late.
Injuries won't end careers,
When ya heart is aged in longer years.

...How the covered windows keep the sunshine at bay.
While your away seize the ceaseless oppurtunities to join them at play.
Should that start you'd be hooked through the gills and could never depart.
Becoming art, and the longer years will not age a-your heart.

And in that cave they did conceive
a higher form of therapy;
medications mixed with beer.
Their hearts have aged in longer years.

Though their lineage may die
they mark the years in hours by.
Their world a maze of curvy mirrors.
Their hearts have aged in longer years.

The years have aged them, but hardly changed them...
...The years have aged them, but hardly changed them...
.......................Years have aged them.......................

When you're Caucasian,...
it's a combination of cock and Asian!
Track Name: Professional shit shoveler
Long, hard day at work, and I just found out they want me back again, same damned shfit tomorrow.
Shovelin' shit all day, same damned shift tomorrow.

Gotta help them make money. That's the plan.
But I'm gonna kill some body, that's what they don't understand.

Hard days night at work, and I just looked at the board, same damned shift tomorrow.
Shovelin' shit for six days. No overtime, same damned shit tomorrow.

Help them make money. That's the plan.
But I'm gonna kill some body, that's what they don't understand.

(*Whispered* better run, Forrest! I did something for them, not they'll do something to me)

I didn't get a single break. I didn't get a thing to eat.
I had to wet myself and hide my tail between my legs.

Help them make money. Follow the plan.
But I'm gonna kill some body, that's what they fail to understand.
Help them make money. Changing my hours.
Docking my wages. Tanking more power.
Track Name: Bottom of the Puget Sound
The opposites with all their grievance and frustration.
Way out sweatin' somewhere where the sun beats down.
Or at the bottom of the Puget Sound...
Or somerwhere where the sun beats down.

Western kids, all their plans for history.
Twisters hear my grievance as the sun beats down.
Down at the bottom of the Puget Sound.
All where no light gets down.

Hooks and release. Oh, they never eat the norm.
Will them release to survive off the course.

Up top will be the net. Thinkum' of a habitat.

Opposites they got their grievance and frustration.
Faces always somewhere where the sun beats down.
That's where my thoughts are now...
Lookin' in the mud deep down.

S.S. Belize. It's a part of the salt.
It's dedicated to those who'd like to come below.
S.S. Belize. Amber barge of the salt.
Displacing yourself? Come below...

Thats an order, now!
Something in the pump leaks out.

The
S.S. Belize! Amber barge of the salt.
Precious Belize in the salt.
Years ago from now ample time to escape
Precious Belize in a sunshineless place.
Track Name: Satanic Mexican goat dance
(goat noises and extra-annoying guitar)

If you think your evil, take account of the things you've done.
These are like credentials; a resume for satan's son.
Ever frodder* kiddies? Or pissed in a gastank?
Have you seen your grandma's titties, and afterward you had to yank?

If you think you're evil get a tattoo on your face!
Microwave a gerbil, and serve with mayonaise.

If you think you're evil let's see how mutch you can bench.
If you think you're evil stiff the landlord on the rent!

(goat noises and that annoying guitar riff again. one sheep joins in near the end)

*Frodder-to rub your naughty bits on someone in a way that is meant to be construed as accidentally.
Track Name: 2x4
2!
x!
...
4!

Bucket seats inside. Puzzle tread on the tires. A mass produced machine. Colored hunter green.
2x4...

Other trucks givin griefThey cast a shadow over me. But when thy're gettin' thier gas, I'm drivin' by 'em with a laugh in a
2x4...

This saucy little dog, she was made in Japan from an ancient Japanese battle plan; make it economical, and make it run.
When the last of her kind, leaves the assembly line, it'll be because her day is done (*sniffle*)
2x4...

I'm goin' road trippin' and I ain't comin' back. Everything I need has been stuffed in the back.
Eat. Sleep. Drive. Room for one.
And when the last of her kind, leaves the assembly line, it'll be because her race has run.
2x4...

You know what they say, about big trucks equating to small manhoods, right? Well...
2x4...
Track Name: Textno-tronic
(sung in a trashy euro-club boy voice)
If you like to party, send me a text. Show me that you party like I know you do.

If you like to party...send me a text.
If you're feeling naughty...send me a text.
If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy, stop talking to me , and baby, just text me.
If you like to party...send me a text.

I see you out on the dance floor........

Before you know it this club's on fire!
And we're running out of bottled water.
On the dance floor I save my batteries.
Don't blow me up, baby, just text me.

If you like to party...send me a text.
If you're feeling naughty...send me a text.
If you want da body, and you thinkink sexy, don't talking to me , and baby, just textink.
If you like to party...send me a text.