Gringo

by Sam GO

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about

LOOK AT THESE WEBSITES
samgomusic.com
www.facebook.com/samthebrand
twitter.com/sam_G_O
www.youtube.com/channel/UCX2Icd_3DO2zTSoA4Z9sU3g
this is my sophomore effort as a solo artist, inspired heavily by the seven months i spent in Peru and Bolivia. just listen to it.

credits

released September 11, 2015

Written, produced, and performed by Sam GO
Guest vocals on "Vessels" by @midnighthagmusic

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all rights reserved

about

Sam GO Portland, Oregon

I'm from Salinas/Monterey, California, currently residing in Portland, Oregon. Feel free to contact me for any gigs you think I'd be right for. I'm down, as long as you don't pay me in eggs or something.

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Contact Sam GO

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Track Name: New Eyes (a slightly drunk Sam GO tells stories to strangers in the lobby of a Cusqueñan backpackers hostel.)
"I’ve been passing the weeks
Reeling in snacks and masturbation
And occasional walking
And wanting an endless display of things
As I'm writing a screenplay
With breezy dreamscape imagery
A la Fellini
Where I play a Taoist king
It's my nothing and everything this week

My aunt had a dream
Of a world void of miserable brown kids
Invading her news screen.
So the snow-white martyr of Mexico
Got tired of dreaming
Of color redeemed
She bought blood drives
And billboards of gringos
Mishandling stethoscopes
The royalty taught those spicks to speak
They were her nothing and everything that week

I live in hostels
Sometimes buses
I'm new
Fending for myself
And praying loud
I read the Tao Te Ching
Tore down the old view
Sup, baby?
My name is Sam
And my ego has dissolved."

New eyes
Track Name: Male Friends
Graphic t's
And graphic teases to the girls in skirts.
I'd love to see
All my friends
Bound and gagged
Hooked to a tank of gas
Dressed in drag

Don’t rat on me

I said I'd do a bit of cocaine
Last week, I watched the movie Scarface

With my male friends
A love in the dark
I got a pack of cigarettes I'm gonna share in the park
With all of my friends
A burn in the spark
You gotta glove up to love up to male friends

I said I’d do a bit of cocaine.
Don’t fuck with me.

I could never give my heart
To a God, or packs in malls
I tell them "Katy was my love, but she’s gone.”
The gas, the drugs, the brotherhood
Are all I’ve got

I got male friends
A love in the dark
I got a pack of cigarettes I’m gonna share in the park
With all of my friends
A burn in the spark
You gotta glove up to love up to male friends

Oh baby, would you talk to me?
Could you fart in front of me with the reckless comfort of a lover?

Male friends
A love in the dark
I got a pack of cigarettes I’m gonna share in the park
With all of my friends
A burn in the spark
You gotta glove up to love up to male friends
Track Name: Vessels
Ah
Do you see it?
Or do you feel it?
Or are they one in the same?

What if bodies are just vessels?

He tomado un poco demasiado esta noche, pero (tos tos tos).... Pero, me quieres, ¿no?

What if bodies are just vessels
For something less defined
Boy, you’re fine
Say, do you wanna wrestle?
I do.
I’ll lend you my vessel for the night
I promise not to fight
Or fall in love
Or vomit on a good time.

I bought you drinks like an American
You signed the contract with a sip
So you're my tour guide for the night
Exotic ass
An iPhone right up on it
I'm me
You're you
We're getting lit

We're flirting through divergent dialects
Chuckle, then explain the joke
You can't believe that at 18, I left my home to travel alone.
Whatever.
I'm me
You're you

But what if bodies are just vessels for something less defined?
Girl, you're fine
Say, do you wanna wrestle?
I do
I'll lend you my vessel for the night
I promise not to fight
Or fall in love
Or vomit on a good time

You showed me home like a Bolivian
Cholita wrestling, fatty foods
I couldn't fathom that you still lived with you fam at 21
Whatever.
"We're us
We're us"
Are you abused?

But we still got along just fine
I couldn’t stop saying "Girl, you’re fine"

Chorus

Oh baby, I’ve no idea what real people do
Are you one of them?
Do you sleep well?
Do you sleep at all?

I'll take you to my studio
Subject you to my beauty
Hope your commie sickle chisels out its form
Asking what's a sea between us
Got to amplify our credence?
Who are you?
Or could you even hope to know?

Tell me, it bodies are just vessels
Then what we gonna do?
If bodies are just vessels
Then who the hell are you?

Do you feel me?
Or do you see me?
me me me me me me me me me me
Track Name: Population 1 (a hormonal, beguiled Sam GO takes his first steps into a pathology of masochism and self-sabotage.)
I was an artist
But punk guitar
Made me a pimple of God
Just sick of the confines of space
Couldn’t wait for my world to collapse

Our last show, root chakra in tact,
I met my monkey
Fucking attacked them onstage
An adolescence of Freudian rage
I waved my guitar their face

Fed up with boomer dads
Who put their kids in cover bands
Just to sing "My Generation".

So art is evil and art is a lie
Art sends my friends away
Art's my crusade
And your taste is pathetic to me

I watched Uncle Boonmee with my roomies on night
And by the end of the film, all had left the room but me.
I told them “We’re not really friends,” and proceeded
To explain them the symbols in detail
Those Brazzers-addled Advil addicts
Masters of the scene
I'm talking my generation

banter and chorus
Track Name: Upright Mammals
I’m on a bender
Uh oh uh oh
Calling up old flames
And scouring year-old mail
The gringo pouts
"I might be acting out my father's flaws
As I’m falling prey to pleasure."

But the streets of Cuzco
Are not that great
Just a sea of drunk Australians
Enabling tourist bait
The blinding white of faux-refinement
I’m in no position to think myself superior
When I break down, I hear them sing:

"We are the party
Waking late
And walking upright
Baby
Turn the beat up
I don’t want to hear
A single lapse of pleasure
Hell, if only we ran the night."

I’m solipsistic
I'm steeped in rum
I want your Immanuel Kant
Baby, if you cum
I’ll never know
As theatre goes
We only kiss illusions
So Iet's just be good actors

We are the party
Waking late
And walking upright
Baby
Turn the beat up
I don’t want to hear
A single lapse of pleasure
Hell, if only we ran the night

How the hell have I not died yet?
I got to puke, but I’m still walking upright

I’m not the party
Waking late
And walking upright
Baby
Turn the beat off
I don’t want to feel
A modicum pleasure
Never felt this tired at night
I feel wizened and drunk and light
Frankly, I'm getting sick of night
Track Name: Poor Me
I miss the salt and pepper
I miss the sweets and porn
I wish I had more than tea as a reason
To be in the jungle with the thorns
Poor me

I tried to find some new eyes in the Daime
Only medicine could change my ways
And not for free

She miss the plata
She miss the fats and family
She wishes she could read
The shaman’s wife was a prostitute
Looking to prosper
And she stole my weed
Poor me

He bought her when she was young
Played the savior, gave her medicine
And changed her ways
But not for free

The shaman told me I’m a part
I’m just a tiny factor
A minuscule excuse for art
The shaman said I look the part
But he’s seen better actors
I wanted to punch him in the gut
The shaman told me I’m a part
I’m just a tiny factor
A minuscule excuse for art
The shaman said I look the part
But he’s seen better actors
And I threw up until the dawn

New eyes
Track Name: Household Chores
Household chores
Monogamy

I could repeat this forever, but everything must end just as it begins. I could repeat this forever, but dear diary, I’m a changed man. I have a yin yang tattoo, and amethyst necklace. I’m a CHANGED MAN. I’m spiritual, yet pragmatic. I support gay marriage. And when I’m not working or planning for future, I open a cold kombucha and watch HBO.

Meditation every day.
Some kale and ginger juice.
Nothing left for me to say.
Inevitable doom.

I gotta lotta friends now
A lotta friends
They all smell the same
Eat granola and do yoga

I told them that Machu Picchu didn’t change my life, and they looked at me as if I had dropped a vase full of ashes. But I tried to explain to them that monumental experiences don't happen on literal monuments. After all, when campsites are limited, tedium is infinite.

"so wat u gonna do?"

Let’s get boring, baby.

Household chores!

I was just a male friend
A pickled-drunk cartoon
Now I Tai-Chi every day
Forever in my room
Meditation’s here to stay
To warp my point of view.
Nothing left for me to say.
Inevitable doom.
Household chores.
Track Name: Who Knows? (a war-torn Sam GO glares at the Fifth Hammer, spits on the dirt, and calls it a night.)
Who knows
If my whole shelf full of yoga books
Says more about the chemicals than life

Who knows
If the Light I feel was always there
In my old eyes

Who knows
If this rigid mess of dying cells
Is all I have to work with in this life

Everybody’s dying
oh, everybody’s dying
I feel fine

What if it’s alright?
Or what if I never do a real thing outside of time?

I talk
Like a glib, perverted guru
Had a bad day and a bit too much to drink

And still faun
Like I’m nothing but a face straining for
Some dumb sign

Who knows
If America's my savior
And the world is just way simpler than I think

Or is home
Just a pink light we project onto nihil
To appease the eye?

Who knows
If these half-assed, holy questions
Are all I have to work with in this life?

And everybody’s dying
Everybody’s dying to see the other side
Everybody’s dying

And I’m afraid I’m alright
What if it's alright?
Whether reverting to the source or climbing towards the light