Morning yawn, stretch and curse about the pieces that fit while you were sleeping. Can a man carry when it won’t stop raining? Morning commuters, the people I don’t know with familiar faces, heard like cattle to their thankless jobs where everyone is screaming, “settle its okay to fucking settle”. Through the motions, walking “dead”.
Track Name: Tits Up
Pencil and crumbled papers, so thick no carpet shows. (My) stomach turns to ideas of a formal self and places I’ll never know. Circles and angles... All the friends you thought you knew. (I’m) Finding all truth is never anything at all, muffled screams you’ll never show. Cut from the same, I would never cut you that way. Same love same team. Same Fucking team.
Track Name: Slow Bruiser
Your head is a weapon and they’ll use it against you to be what they want you to be. So you’re trying a leg up, trying it sober, tied to the words that they say. And I’m tired of weapons and the children that use them, choking on the thick of the air. I’ve got so many words but I kind of feel nothing. My body is strong, but there’s not a violent bone in my (body). So you’re starting to wake up, its not a “you” issue. Some friends of yours they just don’t dream. Well that’s not entirely true, its just I’m tired of the words that they say. And its getting old, hater culture... I’m a lover. But in this city of hatred I’ll have you know that “dreamer” is a common name. My body is strong, but there’s not a violent bone in my (body). Slow bruiser, deep breather, I see no reason for your smile.