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"Even at our best we're still worse than most" - EP 2011

by The Traders

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Roundabouts 02:36
Look where we are and how we were: not as awesome as before. The mirage doesn't seem to work here anymore, on our own sides of the bed. And that's why our principles are now rotten to the core. Please take me back to the time when our voices seemed to count. Communicate and discuss instead of block each other’s doors. Why are we spending our whole life wasting it for sure, ruining our hopes once more? It's like a fucking roundabout. See ourselves seeing the wall coming at us pretty fast. Freeze, and don't you try to run. Please take me back to the time when our voices seemed to count, communicate and discuss instead of block each other’s doors. Begging sure won't get back what we used to adore. Waiting for the countdown, doing nothing at all, just staying here and crawl. Not even taking a shot, I wonder why. How do we can take all this crap? Have we forgotten our way back? Fucking roundabout.
Red lipsticks, glamorous skirts were the main reason why I liked the band. They were rocking like I’ll never be able to. They turned this shit into a very different meaning. Girls in this band tried to make us so banal and cliché. With legs like that, you stop shouting. It's like the best cabaret. My mouth stays open and my eyes hurt, I so want to be a part of this. The bass player is a hot redhead, so distant and close to me. With a glorious Lemmy tattoo on her arm. Shit I just felt in love again. It's not fair in any way. My band looks like a bunch of nerds thrown out of the cabaret.
Common Sense 02:04
Sales in the city we're the first to run, trampling on each other for cheap cell phones. The decline is somehow spectacular. I saw at twenty enough nonsense for a lifetime. Sales in the city we hit and run to have it all. As far as we can see, nothing chocks us at all. But I saw blinds with canes and youth with caps, old men with tears, thirteen with handbags, cunts with chains, nobles with masks. How did our common sense simply fade away? I feel pretty with a machine gun, leather couches, holidays in the sun. This path we take is somehow spectacular. I saw at twenty enough nonsense for a lifetime.
She dropped her lipstick totally on purpose, and let me discover the colors of her lingerie. She walked like a model, adjusting her bra. There's no one in this bar but she wouldn't look at me. Bicolor hair and a Black Flag tee-shirt, and this skirt, well you don't need much imagination. I said hello, she turned the head so gently. So close to her pretty face I could see her little skin imperfections. She did blush and covered her face. Let's get ready for the touch base. She said hello and spared me her full name. Soon unfortunately started the conversation. O'lord what an imperfection! She was dumb and boring that's a fact, but I've really never heard something like that. You get my disappointment. She told me about ponies and some gym classes, about fashion skills, poem writing abilities. So far from what I expected, I could not hear anything that she said, through the foolish tone her voice. She was dumb and boring that's a fact, but I've never heard som'like that. You get my disappointment. "Yeah your purse is kind ‘of awesome, your mom seems really unfair to you, but I’m running out of time. Shut it just for a moment. Your mind is obviously vacant. And if I could go now, this would, this could be just fine".
I see some rats hidden in this court screaming in silence. Conspiracing against my fair actions, the anger had never felt so close. I better shut it in front of those accusers, and my hand shakes from rage now. Pity, lies and injustice had never felt so close. Close to me those guilty faces, because get rid of me won't solve your problem. No more rules for those lost cases. They were buried before I even saw them. I'll tell you why I committed this crime if you forgive me. Because it was me not you on the frontline and this time only; yes I did close my eyes when the shot rang out. You'd better check your rope twice before you hang me high.
Little Box 02:54
Living the dream in a little box we rent. My family's fine in two rooms and a half (when we get along). We're out for a walk down the neighborhood, this time settled and steady for good. Spending our time in apologizing and smoking in bed, we consider success as working so far. We are square and honest, calm, peaceful in our chest. You know when you just can't be alone. But I’m nowhere to be found. I'll never try to escape, and I'm calling home. Sometimes i miss the road, and sometimes I miss the pints. But I look in my son's eyes and I'm definitely not going anywhere. All around is what I built with my own hands and my own heart. I stay in my favorite little box.


Enregistré, mixé et masterisé par Alex Ayrault avec son studio mobile : "les deux doigts dans la prise".

Artwork by Pèir : www.peirlavit.com

Sorti grâce aux copains de :
L'Espiceria Asso,
Auxily Rock,
You're Fired Records!,
No Routine Records,
Maximise Records,
Culture Punk


released November 18, 2011


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The Traders Lyon, France

The Traders is a punk rock band from France. We started on 2010, released two EPs, and a LP called "Too Young... So Old".
We played shows in France, Europe, Russia, Canada as often as we could.

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