A Couple Cold Ones

by Ass Life

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Ron Deuce
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Ron Deuce Ass Life plays some energetic punk/hardcore that should please anyone who enjoys drinking and bashing corporate culture. Too bad the movie Office Space was made so long ago because the song “Diet Wine” would fit perfectly on the soundtrack. These guys thrive on short, compact bursts of rage that are bound to make you pick up your ergonomic office chair and fling it directly at your boss.

www.toiletovhell.com/mini-reviews-from-around-the-toilet-bowl-03-09-16/ Favorite track: Firebomb The Warehouse Party.
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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    The first physical Ass Life release. First edition white cassette tape of the debut LP, "A Couple Cold Ones", out on Wiener Records / Ephemerol Night Terrors.

    Includes unlimited streaming of A Couple Cold Ones via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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released August 1, 2015


Engineered by John Henry
Mastered by Taylor Larson

Cassette version available now!
Wiener Records / Ephemerol Night Terrors, 2015



all rights reserved


Ass Life Los Angeles, California

Ass Life:
Jason Greenly - Vocals
Andy Hill - Guitar
Chad Fjerstad - Bass
John Kyle - Drums

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Track Name: Ass Life
It's getting harder
It's getting harder everyday
I hate this city
This city's killing me
Yeah I got a job
but it's not an honest trade
Yeah I clock in and out
It's the fucking same

It's getting worse
It's getting worse every day
I hate my friends
My friends are killing me
I need some money
I need some sleep
There's no relief from the heat
This life is killing me

I've had enough of this drunk-ass life
I've had enough of this broke-ass life
I've had enough of this stupid-ass life
I've had enough of this sad-ass life
I've had enough of this worthless ass life
I've had enough of this ass life
Track Name: 40's at The Rook
La Tropicana to grab a bite
scrambled eggs and a Miller Lite
The drought is real but we're stayin' cool
cuz Chad and Brady bought a swimming pool

and we got 40's at The Rook.
Track Name: Firebomb The Warehouse Party
We smash our cans and crack out.
Let's organize a blackout.
We plan to ass out,
so bring cash to dance and smash out.
Downtowns a graveyard,
Hollywood can eat my shit.
I wait around 'til bar close for something less legit.
Call on the scumdogs, it's time to get wrecked
off little interactions, little bags of Lil Death.
Binge a bit of life and fuck the rest.
Smoke cess until my lungs explode out of my chest.
Vanity and excess at the highest degree,
coked out on candy.

Firebomb the warehouse party.

There's a celebration on skid row,
at a location that I don't know.
There's a wildfire downtown,
we can go if you can drive.

With little interactions, little bags of Lil Death,
binge a bit of life and fuck the rest.
Fuck rest, fuck light.
I'll dumpster dive for a brighter life.
It's all wrong, alright.
Keep diving for a brighter night.
UV black light, burn the bodies.
Black smoke billows outta my brain.
Smash a window, escape the flames.
Black out as the napalm sprays.
Vanity and excess at 900 degrees,
choke on the smoke and debris.

Firebomb the warehouse.

Illegitimate bridge burner,
burns as bright as the morning guilt.
Another restless night of failure.
We all ass out, black out, smash out, pass out.

So come one, come all.
Come on all common scum dogs.
Track Name: Scabs
Just another scab.
Irritating, immature, incessant.
You plague me every day,
and acting your age isn't even enough.
Your mindset is a one-way.
Hardwired wrong, you have no idea.
Test me.
You're begging to be picked, I try to ignore.
You plague my every day.
This shit again.
Face me.
Insert yourself where you don't belong.
You're begging to be let back in.
It's not a sore, it's a scab.
Not a scab, then a scar.
It's too hard to be honest for once, you diluted excuse.
This cycle, it's torture.
Time and time again.
If you fall, I won't catch you.
You won't find me,
time after time.
Track Name: Open Sore
My body is going to shit.
Another week of this and I'm over it.
I've got a bad knee and I'm covered in wounds.
I'm gonna tear myself open again tomorrow at noon.

I'll paint the walls with my open sores.
I'm gonna smear it all over the windows and floors.
I've got a couple sharp knives and bottle of gin,
and I'm fully committed to this life of sin.

I get off on spreading disease.
I get off.

I wanna tie you down and make you drink my blood.
It's gonna taste like shit like it fucking should.
I'm gonna find your car and slash the tires.
I'm gonna cut off your hands with a string barbed wire.

I wanna watch you die.

Lie on the floor with the fear in your eyes.
A gasoline bath to lighten the mood.
The Bic gets flicked and my cock gets hard.
Yeah, I feel better now.
I get off.
Track Name: Diet Wine
It's clean, this place.
No smells, no taste.
Nice building, nice wage.
No gender, no race.
It's nice, this place.
Moved up, got paid.
Hit copy, hit paste.
So easy, so great.
I'm sick of being locked in.
Let me out, I wanna feel the sun on me.
But I'm staying late, making wage, and operating machines.

Getting longer, these weeks.
Feel useless, feel cheap.
No rest and no sleep.
Drink coffee, drink bleach.
Eat away, clear out the contents.
I wanna bare the new bright idea.
Need a concentrate of content to pour out of my head.

Chained to a chair, operating machines.
A slave to a timesheet, and in the business of killing dreams.
It's rotten, this dream.
Skin itches, breath stinks.
Feel dirty, not free.
Once you come, you never leave.
It's rotten, this dream.
Skin itches, breath stinks.
Sixty years of misery, and once you come, you never leave.

Everybody's working.
A slave to the weekday, and everybody's working for the weekend.
Track Name: Bacardi Fantasy
Where am I now?
I'm disappointed there's no angels in this town.
It's cliché.
Spit it up, catch it, swallow.
I deserve this.
I'm a walking shit-show.
I'm off my head, there's no reset.
If you have goals, set 'em up.

I know I feel every rotting cell, gone forever so I wish them well.
Either way, it doesn't matter to me.
Sense of self-poisoning.

Champagne and kings and nothing less.
Fermented blood pumps from my chest.

I have no delusions, I am the fool.
I only dream of sex and death. I'm tired.

My edge is dull and I lack the strength.
My visions clouded, so I can't even think.
Is this how I want to live until I go?
Four years strong and I'm finally gone.
I'm only waiting to decay.
Bring it on.
Track Name: Create Waste
One day I will cease to grow,
when earth decides I am of no value.
The rotten fluid dripping from my veins,
I flood the soil with poison.

Bleed out my entrails, leaving only skin.
A hollow shell split open reveals the dirt.
Let my dermis sink within the earth.
Then I've served my final purpose.
I have come to terms with the end.

There's no escape, I won't look away.

I fear that when I'm gone
they will remember my name, but not my face,
and they will label me incorrectly
and try to erase what I've done.
They will disrespect me.
The truth will be overshadowed
by what they think they remember.
My soul will blur with time and lose all resemblance.

Will any of you guard my name?
When I'm not around, out comes the honesty.
They will disrespect me,
they will shamelessly dissect me.
Who will guard my name?
Will any of you guard my name?
Track Name: #2
Watch them charge the steps.
Each with Bibles, one in each hand.

Each step advancing, books banging together.

Denouncing unholy unions. It's only tradition.

They do so, for once a man preached it to them.

To them, it's only them.
Half of them don't even practice.
Some of them should be sent away with the bastards.
They're just afraid to disconnect completely.

Bible bangers, there they go.
Track Name: Just Married
I do. I have surrendered.
I am the horse, conduct me.
Succumb, become united.
The end, our pink little prison.

I put blood into your vows,
and I cut my wrist so you can suck it all out.
Skin and bone will only get you so far.
There's a wall we've built just to fucking tear down.

Take my hand in doom,
hold my hand in doom.

I put love in you every day,
and it's killing us and it's rotting our brains.
I committed to you to get closer to God,
and now we're here where it's pouring rain.

It's all their fault. It's all our fault. It's all their fault. It's all fucked.