1. |
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[I haven't really thought about death much recently. I haven't thought about much of anything recently...just cause I don't really see the point. I'm just kind of walking through daily life…]
I don't really got nothing to say and you don't really got nothing to say but we're both stuck in the house either way. So why don't try to talk a little bit?
Do you believe in me?
I believe in you.
You don't know how I am feeling right now
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2. |
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I've got this burning in my stomach, I doubt that you know what it's like. I got this brain that keeps me nervous. I think that I would rather die. I can feel it cracking like my psyche. Suffering succotash I don't think that this can last. I just wanna feel happy again.
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3. |
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How do I think of you less often when you're lying in your plastic coffin? I scrape the fur off myself to pretend as if I'm not an animal. Natural creatures living unnaturally, wagging our fists at the sky. Isolated by our own realities because it keeps up the lie.
How do I think of you less often when you're lying in your plastic coffin? Morbid fixation on earthly creations. I imagine what it's like to melt, then remember that this is hell.
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4. |
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I collapse on the cement to catch my breath for a minute. You're devoid of emotion, worn from perpetual motion. The world is moving so slow wading through yellow smoke. Ain't been paid in a minute. How am I gonna pay rent? Well I don't know and you don't know. Brush the crumbs to the floor and open the door. Maybe all we need is a little breeze and some clean sheets to sleep on, because everything grows even when miserable. Everything.
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5. |
△ Brown Recluse
02:00
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Hiding from the drunk voices and such. Don't really feel like saying what's up. Laying in bed, I needed a break. I hope that that's ok. I love all your friends, it's nothing like that. I've just been feeling exhausted and maybe a little accosted by all of the noise and the talking. You know that I have a hard time. I'm anxious and nervous when I socialize. I'm poisoned. My skin is melting off from the venom. I'm fucking rotting as I live. Two little puncture wounds. They blister, they burn, and they itch. I could die from this. Hope I die from this. My eyes are red from crying into a pillow. I try to look composed when I walk in the room. This house is buried underwater. There's an undercurrent dragging me from you.
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6. |
△ Vic Vinegar
03:24
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"Like colored dots on the TV, do you even see me? Like colored dots on the TV, I'm just one of many. We dissolve into the atmosphere. We dissolve into the dirt. We are all just visitors here. We are not long for this earth. A conglomeration of sentient energy, we're struck with feelings, but no meaning. Chemical reaction intermingling, bound to the ground by gravity. Or is it bound to me? What we've been we will never be again, so what might we become?"
And you dismiss me with a "yeah".
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7. |
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So we laid in bed listening to "never meant" and I could feel the end floating around our heads. You said "this isn't right. Sometimes I wish we'd fight just to feel like we are still alive." And "maybe I need to find someone who wants more than to spend time".
I've been driving around for hours haunting suburban landscapes are 2am as aimless as the drifting leaves across the streets in autumn. There's a haunting beauty to the end of all things that surround us.
"You know you're right. We haven't been happy in a long time ignoring all the signs that things don't feel right. Because nothing's really terrible so it seems fine. And I guess that just fine, but is fine just fine?"
I've been driving around for hours haunting suburban landscapes at 2am as aimless as the drifting leaves across the streets in autumn. I've been driving around for hours. I've been driving looking for meaning.
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8. |
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Big shot I spam tons, at the gig it’s sans one, actually I’m absent, hit ‘em with a slam dunk. Fashioned like a ornament on hands fund, adorned em with the lamb lunch and populated fandoms. I could be a dummy but the bars is always random, damn niece, genius spewing out the powerful phalanges. Sand run in maze temple, left, right, I aim center. Chest tight regain temper, blessed I’m with crazed splendor skills and a hot pen bender bending rodriguez, comes through with lots then, I call him my bot friend. Got Dev, the funny kid similar to Chris Griffin if he rolled the spliffy big, Every show I’m pretty priss plus I get silly lit. Village in my gut said I’m gruff with the frilly tips, rut stuck like timmy all my cuff come from Krill and bit. Pink. Where could I have gone except for plunging deeper and deeper and deeper into the bottom of this song, ocean’s floor inhabitants type beat filling up my iphones times 3 and of course I’m quite familiar with it, The insidious visions, the visage of you in a white room like morpheus and when the shelves rush and it’s all drums, machines, acoustic sticks, cables, and screens, the world’s largest petri dish in my palms and I’m holding it up no effort-style, scroll depths of files to find myself singing eyes wide and felt felt tips scrawling tales of fiction, I cram the written in my pants pocket next to banned prescriptions, the sample’s kickin, attack was high, so when I fade in I’m relaxing, smile with my passive eyes. The root of my complex is found in the twiddling thumbs of summer. Someone comes a-knocking but I am trying to telegraph that I am actually quite busy writing. Someone comes a-knocking bu I am trying to telegraph that I am actually quite busy writing.
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9. |
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"Bury the dog in the back yard", you said "that's just how life goes. It'll be us someday". I didn't know what to say--15 fucking years old digging a hole, staring at the corpse of this thing I once loved, that doesn't exist anymore. Sobbing alone, and froze to the bone. Surrounded by trees, it would be serene if the ground just would work with me. You said, "that's just how life goes, it'll be us someday."
15 fucking years old, digging a hole.
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11. |
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12. |
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Consuming quantities that would make me judge my friends. It's really hard to love myself when I am looking in the mirror. I'll either wake up or I won't and if I die will I even know? Well I won't. No I won't. I need to get my shit together--eyes are yellow, I'm not tethered to the ground or anything that is around me. And I swear to god that god's not real, because if they were then I wouldn't feel this constant compulsion to kill me. But I won't. No I won't.
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13. |
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It's you and me against the world--I guess it's just me. I'm exhausting and difficult and I'm bad at apologies, but I've been making changes. I'm trying to slow down and shake off all the demons that I've been dragging around cuz the only reason I'm alive right now is because I love you more than I hate myself. I'm sorry I ruined your birthday.
E-I-C-H-L-E-R-S
I'm sorry I'm fucking your life up, big drama I talk a lot of shit. Last summer I buried my head down, this summer I probably won't be silly little me, maybe I don't know when to shut up, tell me when to go. Cause I wanna die, I don't wanna play. I'm sorry I ruined your birthday.
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14. |
▣ NEWORDER
02:11
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Let us clasp our hands and pray ourselves away. We are born of sin, no hope for purity. So father stretch my hands, stretch me like rubber bands. If god gave me these hips then they were made to dance. We're goners. Let us clasp our hands and pray ourselves away so we can kill our friends and live a life we hate. Fuck these fascist fucks with their dumb fascist haircuts, who wanna bible thump while hiding behind guns. Fuck these fascist fucks with their dumb fascist haircuts, maybe they forgot that fascists get strung up.
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