Adolt Cartoon

by Lamposts

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This album's beginnings trace back to 1999. Completed only in 2013, it is the manifestation of partying, conflict and work. In my prior experiences, I've played rhythm guitar and sung lead vocals. "Adolt Cartoon", on the other hand, shows my abilities as a solo artist. I also mixed, arranged and recorded the majority of the album.
It is as personal as it is ridiculous.


released May 8, 2013



all rights reserved


James Peter Carroll Irvine, California

I started playing guitar when I was 14. When I was 15, my best friend and I started playing, and eventually put together the 4-piece, pop-punk band, "Slapshack". We played intermittently for 6 years. AFter that I played in a serious alt-metal group, "The Robe", which quickly burnt out in a year. My personal musings all the while is the incarnation "Lamposts". ... more

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Track Name: blue collar attitude
I'm fuckin' bad, fuck that I'm really bad. You can't tell I've got money. I say low pro's the way to roll. Well I'm not officially superficial, but I'm worth my weight in gold
I don't play nice, my favorite habit is to party, I can throw my own airshow, because I'm lurkin in elitist shadow.
Well, let me introduce myself, I'm ted nugent's son. Got a billy goat, a motor boat, and a hot bitch to show. With a blue collar attitude I'm kickin ass with upper class cash.
Track Name: i hate cops
Morbidely obese, cleanin up the streets, uneducated, power hungry always eatin' on the beat. It shouldn't matter where I'm parkin, shouldn't m,atter that I'm skatin'. In an antagonistic relation. In an hypocrisy for a paycheck.

The mother fuckers suck. The mother fuckers duck.The mother fuckers, suck and duck, and shoot a man with a garden hose.
Cause no matter what our rights are. With those piggies, they won't go far. But don't worry, I'll put'em where they belong. Eatin' my shit, on an ass stankin' pig farm.

Good cop and a bad cop, let's go to the donut shop. America's finest, but most likely not.
good cop and a bad cop, let's go to the donut shop. Uneducated ex-highschool jocks.
Track Name: the mexican board of tourism invites you to join us
Where we are is bound to make your blood boil.
Where we are is a matter to make your mind toil.
Where we are is relativated lack, of violence knowone cares for that.
What we are is a bit of the brainwashed F'n spoiled

It don't matter to me, what oyu saw on TV, all I know is there's no pave in this road, and we're lost here with nowhere to go, cause we're lost and we're stoned, we're lost and we're stoned, we're lost and we're stoned in Mexico.

Why do they follow with flashing red lights?
Pointing my way as they eye me in spite.
Waiting in line, for a judge with no jury, and a Mexican medallion
Federales have us seized, I'm not worried.

Nothing matters to me. Got my full Mexanese. For all know, this is part of the show, play a song, and we might let you go, cause we're lost and we're stoned in mexico.
Track Name: F14
Goddamn I'm 18, I'm a military man.
But I'm goin back east, to shoot all the nips I can.
Maybe I'm crazy, but damn it sound like fun, with one hand on the bible, and one hand on the gun.

Goddamn that uncle Sam made a cripple outta me. Gonna get no girlies, with a fucked up dick disease. Maintain my sanity on trips with a teenage queen. That for now is stickin my dick in the back of an M16.

Give me 10 give me 10 give me 20, give me VD, give me sanctuary. Give your heart to the lord, while you stick your dick into a whore, so watch your cocks, or your going home in a box. This is my rifle, this is my gun. This is for fighting, this is for fun.

give me 10, give me 10, give me 20. give me VD, give me sanctuary. Give your thanks to the time, while a hand grenade hear blew your mind, where most of all , givin thanks is protocol.

Left, left left right left
Track Name: corporate suicide
You know I'm crazy, no pardon me, no sorry I owe you
People amaze me, don't park so close, new briefcase, nice new suit
Merit is to credit card as coprophagy is cold penetrate the arm.

So this is who you are, McDonald's gonorrhea, bring it on
You are under control

You do not have to die, there is no reason, no why, so why aspire to?
You do not have to die, there is no reason, no why, it's corporate suicide/.
Track Name: melodramatics
Who the hell, do you take me for, I won't buy into newsprint, deviance, bullshit politics.Gonna get extreme, want more, solo flying with all this conflict, blitzkrieg, havoc. All these things are symptomatic, of the same melodramatics.

No matter how hard you try, you can't get into what's inside

Oh for goodness sake, who the hell I am is you say I think I am
Then again the feeling's it really doesn't matter.
Track Name: skull tattoo
You are a skull tattoo and a black dark shaded shirt.
You are a wasted smile a cigarette by birth
Selling distinction has been vexing you so far
Soon you will fit the mold, and sing and sound, and loook just like every rock star
The finest things we offer, right here for you. repeat it over and over, what have you go to lose, design a song for sing along. This world is getting over you. Those smiles becoming shoulders. A dream you can't recover. I don't agree with cheap metaphor, but you've gone the way of the buffalo.

Now that you've tasted fame you hungrily want more. Now you're a drug addiction, shit you can't afford. Left to degrade yourself on music video.

While singing nothin too profound, and nothin too obscene, just what will guarantee some play on the radio.

Integrity won't mean shit, once you're through, Repeat it over and over. With nothing left to lose, and on your way out.

design your soul for radio, kissed and told is how I know. A broken beast in all intents, the chemical of stereo. We've got a flavor that's made just for you. Come time to meet the vulture circle. Missing you with nothing spared to think about. Don't agree with cheap metaphor, don't subsist on your shit anymore, prepaid God for nobody. When you've gone the way. And my body's telling me right now. You've gone the way.
Track Name: the process of discrimination
So you want a job, my name's Tom. So what country are you from son? If you're sick, grab a sack, there's some gardening in the back. If you're jew and it's true, then I'll shine your shoes. It don't matter swede french or dutch, well it don't mean much, we organize like a crayon box. Middle east, oh that's sweet, we'll arrest you in a week. If you're black, don't attack, there's no money in the back, jack. Oh little baby. Get up and get a job, it's just the process of discrimination.

Me outsides are white. You better bet I thank the lord everyday. And most of all thank God I'm not gay, fuck a fatherly wish with the flick of the wrist so opportunities always dismissed.

Pure little baby. You're safe, so safe inside of me. No factories, infirmities, intolerance of grace. It's just the prosthesis, inseminating.