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The End of Mont Pleasant

by the Boston Celtics

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1.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder than the judge's view can be mislead. Childhood dreams of conquering such things-- a pedestal on which to stand. Tell everyone your secrets tell everyone your plans, just make sure to set them straight on what they haven’t heard and what they have. Starry skies, any backdrop will do fine. Crying eye, you trained hard to make it right. Well give it up… your act is no good tonight. When the curtains close there won’t be a single rose by your side. Train wreck tops the news in a lonely hotel room drowned in perfume. Riddled with what to do room service a drink or two. Well three floors down in the thick of it all in the back of the bar you shoot shit with stars. Strange they hang on every word your bullshit is so absurd. The air is not quite right, an abundance of carbon dioxide. Seems to be we speak more than we hear. Some fear our atmosphere worsens by the year… how unfair, the wind still fills our sails. What a tale…
2.
If I gave a shit I would say so on my own time. Can’t waste a shift or a patron’s tip due to my crying. If I aimed to please the front seat of the music scene I would play for brainwashed kids, suited stiffs and talking pairs of tits. Do it right now and they’ll give you a free ride… or do it ‘My Way’ the way Frank sang, bring a tears to their eyes. Strike up a counter claim and show them that you are alive. If I gave a shit I would say so on my own time. Not make a record spin dishing out outlandish lines. You see nothing is for certain in this life. Why waste your god given taste on something so vile? Things seem to be working out… don’t they? Do it right now and they’ll give you a free ride… or do it ‘My Way’ the way Frank sang, bring tears to their eyes. Strike up a counter claim and show them that you are alive.
3.
Let's 04:54
Let’s make our hearts make the rules. Late December I last saw her dancing freely, drinking with me. Acting proper countless hours teasing harmony what will never ever be. Stop screwing around, what you waiting for? Life has a funny way of tearing you down; life has a funny way of ripping hearts out. Subtle glances spark romances. Clever contact pray you comeback. Second chances grow like branches; really love your peaches going to shake your tree. Stop screwing around, what you waiting for? Time never slows down.
4.
Healing Wind 03:33
Long road west, belt across the breast bone. Felt like home gunning for the next coast. Breeze blown blouse lifting like an anthem. All eyes down staring at your ankles. Sound off. Inside a house built by ancients, discovering now our basic operations. Visions flow cascade abomination. Future sight our final destination. Sound off. Explore. Is everything really happening? Still haven’t found the desert rose, asked around town but no one knows. Explore. Is everything really happening?
5.
6.
Pride 05:49
Deep within the lion’s den lays the lion’s son. Claim to fame the village bane hunts the children. Men of age lack the courage that they hunger for, it’s what we all hunger for. Ask around the small town what they are running from. The smell of fear the sound of tears and loaded shotguns. Blood in the eyes, fathers try to hide their caution, it will cost them. Climbing that wall, I’m hungry that’s all, I’m going to find you, I’m going to kill you. Climbing that wall, I’m hungry that’s all, I’m going to catch you, I’m going to eat you. Deep within the lion’s heart beats a tired drum. Counts the day until the rage just follows him home. Run away, wait for rain, throw the scent off. It will throw them off. Cut around stalk the town while the men are off. Women try a laughable time their meat is too soft. Left for dead, paint the town red, pick from the crop. I’ll take from the top. Climbing that wall, I’m hungry that’s all, I’m going to find you, I’m going to kill you. Climbing that wall, I’m hungry that’s all, I’m going to catch you, I’m going to eat you. Everything is coming around. Deep within the lion’s mind lies the reason. Memory of the fallen son haunts with treason. Round and round the world's tongue in fluent form. What’s bad form… is bad form.
7.
God Hands 05:10
The fantastic seed runs through the over being. Touched by such births new blood in charge of the seven seas. In duality… in actuality… he loved not one but two he spun a web of calamity. Hidden from the others view stashed away until he was twenty two. Approached by a voice with what to do; stain your hands with the blood of Zeus. Wield the bolts to kill my son, rub him out for what he has done. Betray my trust and this won’t sit well; call upon both heaven and hell. God I won’t let you down. Burn this whole village to the ground.
8.
9.
Alma Mater 05:00
So many choices, so many wrong, how will I get back to where I belong? Blow away the world, turn this rock into dust. Some fight with rage, some fight with rules, some fight everyone with nothing to lose. I got a rocket ship for us, let’s fly to the moon and fuck. Ra Ra Ra, we are the sorry state of number two.
10.
Paramour 04:49
Short changed flattery essence scattered passionately. Floral pattern suites her, matches the furniture. Overboard and overexposed talking trash to painted toes. Currently indisposed; teasing hands under clothes. Thank god chivalry is dead. I want to drink instead. Get drunk and hit my head, fall down and bang in your bed. Same song sang to me, an act of serendipity. Movement of futility disregard fertility. Undetected undertones flesh formed art forms. Perfect time to be alone, she screams much louder when no one is home. Thank god chivalry is dead. I want to drink instead. Get drunk and hit my head, fall down and bang in your bed. Flabbergasted and casket bound, I don’t care how it sounds. Ripping currents underground flow to flowers all around. Sea of seeds for picking, choice is so intimidating. Who am I to tempt fate? Still can’t look you in the face. Thank god chivalry is dead. I want to drink instead. Get drunk and hit my head, fall down and bang in your bed.
11.
Eventuality 04:13
You know it’s like we never had parted, bringing up nights everyone forgotten. Spinning loose lines to cover our tracks. Never imagined you would check our facts. You know you put me in this awkward situation, too late to offer any consolation. I long to rest my head in the small of your back. Take the channels that are harder to track. Sometimes mind’s eyes let loose a good cry coloring outside the lines. Hearts aim to do the same, judging by past claims you can’t control yearning. You know it’s like we never had parted. The same sleuth you always were smarter. Intent to rub me up and down in your success. Words are meaningless unless they get you out of your dress. You know you put me in this awkward situation, turning me on as an act of intimidation. I admit you are making me sweat. Display our wit before we lose interest. Sometimes mind’s eyes let loose a good cry coloring outside the lines. Hearts aim to do the same, judging by past claims you can’t control yearning.
12.
Stimpacks 07:07
Well what do we have here? A wet dog trapped bound by his heels. Should I tighten the noose or are we going to make a deal? Now that I got you by the balls are we going to make a deal? Times are tough, life is rough, I got bills to pay, I do it all the wrong ways, I do it every way I can. Well what do we have here? Trashed covered grass formed into hills. Are we moving on or should I have myself another beer? Gaseous views are for romantic site seers. Times are tough, life is rough, I got bills to pay, I do it all the wrong ways, I do it every way I can. Well what do we have here? Another empty promise provided by our leader. Should we tar and feather or get together it’s unclear. Does the power lie in our fortified future? America, we dug a hole, we got to fill that hole with lots of soul.

about

An ethereal lament. Regrets of an electro ghost.. The mournful crooning of your tired grandfather. The Boston Celtics’ latest endeavor, “The End of Mont Pleasant,” is a savagely bittersweet, but beautiful collection of songs. Elegiac in scope, The Celtics’ mourn over lost time, relationships, and the specter of things that could have been. Nostalgia laden beats and haunting vocals will put these up and coming members of the B3nson Collective in the quiet spaces in your heart.


The carefully crafted lyrics of Celtics’ members Rich Nolan and Ryan Stewart are filled with a myriad of emotions, ranging from pithy observations about time, to an ironic humor concerning modern romances.

credits

released December 1, 2009

All songs written and recorded by Ryan Stewart and Richard Mark Nolan Jr. with the exception of Bond of the Aldermen and On that side of Pinery written exclusively by Ryan Stewart and God Hand which features Jesse Horton on guitar.

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the Boston Celtics Albany, New York

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