1. |
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Should I sink in the winter, welcome another year?
Or should I rot on the top shelf of the day-olds?
Killing time, my breathing declines--
further analysis reveals an answer bundled up in common sense.
How is it alright to lose what you like over pinpoint jabs?
They toss me in the foreground,
recalling all the stories of a place they knew I hated--
well fuck off, four years, we're not associated.
Should I sink in the line dug by an empty pen?
I'd find its shaded side, then I'd sleep for the better.
Recalling colder days, so imperfect, preserved,
and how the stabbing of my actions led to thoughts of letting go.
How is it okay to have everything come undone at an inopportune minute, and how is it okay to never want to finish writing lyrics?
Yes I know, it shouldn't hurt that much but it hurt to me.
And I know that they should see me, hope the best, and leave.
Bury me--head to foot--forget my other side.
Bury me--I'll say I'm sorry, but don't let go--bury me.
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2. |
Fuck Punch
01:04
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Eric:
Empty packs of cigarettes are all that line my floor--
another night spent puking up the last few drinks that Alex bought.
Stoned without a care I'm sick of always being spent,
but this time you're just a nightmare and I'm never waking up.
Chris:
Too late, good luck for now, last night my window was reflections--
just a multipurpose, vacant slate that upgraded me to useless.
Out of print forever more, in time I'll fade into distraction.
It wasn't what it seemed, and for that I was worried too long.
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3. |
Meat Birds
01:56
|
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A violent fist fight were the last words we spoke,
A bloody red mess is the last thing I wrote.
These dirty black jeans are the comfort I need,
your lack of replies are all that I see.
There's a yellow bird inside of your ribcage,
It's a bloody red mess, you're screaming for help.
Your shitty ex boyfriend is all that you need,
your lack of replies are all that I see
I am a cancer inside of your lungs--
I'll bleed through your veins, I'll bite through your tongue.
The strangest of things has yet to be seen--
my motives are honest, you're fucking with me.
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4. |
Can I Kick It?
01:25
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Posted for reminder just a year too long,
you only try to tell me it's nothing at all.
Stapled to this couch with a cotton mouth smile,
my feet up on the table, I'll just jerk off for a while
Tell me I'm a loser, I don't wanna be cool,
it's just another thing that I never wanna do.
My slacker-sensibility only got me so far,
my feet up on the table, I'll crash my car.
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5. |
Seymour Butts
02:13
|
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He lost his job a little too late for
returning to what he wanted to become
at age 10, where limits were ignored--
at 27, he can only feel sorry.
A grave later, a generation's passed--
his son is perfect, but life went by too fast.
His brightest days implied that all good things should pass,
and when he died, he cried, "I wish I was ready."
All his life, he said, "I think sometimes I need some distance."
Holding, held, he said, "I think sometimes I need persistence."
"The universe is shaped exactly like the Earth--if you go straight along, you'll end up where you were." You'll quit your shitty job, move out along the Earth--if you drink your life away, remember what it's worth.
All his life, he said, "I think somtimes I need some distance."
Holding, held, he said, "I think sometimes I need persistence."
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6. |
Constellate Me
02:35
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It's so cold and
you're too late.
It's been years since
we last talked.
There's a feeling
I have lost.
You took it with you
in your old songs
It's so cold and
you're too late.
It's been years since
we last talked.
I'm not complaining
but I can't breathe.
My lungs are failing
but you won't leave.
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Japan in the 80's Fairfax, Virginia
Alternative/punk/grunge revival from Northern Virginia, USA.
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Originally intended for the Ontario band's breakthrough 2018 album "Death Lust," these four cuts offer an ironclad punk-rock experience.
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