1. |
The Dying Dog
04:16
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your organs function poorly and your body's sound asleep
as your mind runs at the speed of light and you glare so violently
a glint screaming from your pupils, "someone please fix me"
body struggles to survive as it shuts a mouth unable to scream:
"i don't want to die"
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2. |
Extended No, But Angrier
05:53
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the nape of your neck overheating after consumption of your daily rage intake, the hands of your thin arms attempting to convince you they're not shaking due to hate, but the stomach you betray is the real hero here, its hunger pangs on a 5 year-long riot, those lips on your face, that stupid fucking face
(sorry, lost my cool there)
those lips on your face are so easily sealed shut, and yet they bother you the most, the eyelids, you fucking know where, vibrating like the pictures that will feed its unrest. you could've faked until you made it in so many different areas, but you had to choose the silence, the passivity, the cowardice, this fucking mess
you'll throw under the carpet
that atop sits the sorry drum set
a vessel of one of your many attempts
to process the hurt from your family and friends
sometimes not even intended for you
but you embrace the pain that will get through
and make itself at home, never to be attended to
but always present in the moments you will crack and wail:
"why can't i be alone?
with my exacerbated reactions to actions okay to be executed
I just want to be alone
I deserve to be alone
(the only thing i truly need is comfort in feeling lonely)
just leave me alone, now, to pretend I know how to treat all the harm i contained"
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3. |
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I've extracted a lot of somethings out of nothings
and made matters even worse
it's like the only thing that matters is how much pain I deal
not to myself but towards others, never what hurts the most
which should but doesn't faze me
and the motives seem too foolish to comprehend
and if anyone were to say that they understand
well, that worries me more than it helps me
another day goes by and here I am in my bed
but this time I got a really really really nice dream
where I'm making a scene, telling myself a punchline
sobbing realities, singing deep and heavy sighs
and in my head, oh there you are
yes you, in that invitational aura
calling me your best friend and a winner, telling me you'll not leave
reminding me that behind my angst there's self-fabricated peace
and I woke up in a lovable lull
wishing my days were eternal
but I sat up wanting to lie down again
thinking: "what's the fucking point, it'll never happen"
and I don't mean the same old whining
I mean the only thing I wanted
which would be for me to stand by your side
sharing anxieties and letting out
"it'll be just fine
I'm just having a lot of bad times
it's been more than just a few weeks
since I've been too scared and too weak
but you are right, I can be change
when I'm with you everything is OK"
oh what a shame
what a shame
I've extracted a lot of somethings out of nothings
and made matters even worse
it's a curse I've cast upon myself
as a punishment for being human
and feeling human feelings
and committing human errors
and then saying human sorrys
and feeling human-ly embarrassed
and for every fucking time at home
when I felt sorry for myself
even in those moments where all I needed and deserved was
feeling sorry for myself
holding back tears, denying any help
I preferred to stay in hell
since it felt like justice when i felt like
scratching the walls screaming 'what the fuck, what the fuck'
jumping off the roof just to test my shitty luck
living off those illusions where people hear me say "hey
could it be just fine?
we're both having a lot of bad times
it's been more than just a few years
since i've been the source of all my fears
i never lost hope that i could change
because when I'm with you everything is a-OK
but what's to say?
what could i say?
from inside squirms the dying dog
it never happens and it looks at me
it never happens, it just stares
it opens its mouth, unable to scream:
"i don't want to die"
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4. |
My Kind of Animal
07:23
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no questions to respond
no answers to be taught
my shame is on the spot
just let it linger on
my animal will hide its fangs
avoiding prey, ignoring hunger pangs
yet my animal will always know
this territory is its own
because where could it go?
this home is all it knows
and what else would want to live the same?
with my familiar impulses
i fulfill in and out of sleep
recalling questions answered
when responses should be questioned
daydreaming or just dreaming
either way avoiding reality
this isn't even pleasure
just foul reminders
of what i am
after struggling to sleep
in a dream i caught up with the past
where i could be alone
and not want to be lonely
an option, nothing more, nothing less
a mistake, unfair, hurtful
organs functioned clearly, body harbored no burden
an animal refusing to see itself in a cell
but then, i awake from the dream
to never recover it in my sleep
and the warmth and care linger so gently
'til it runs from the dread glaring oh so violently
and i recover my reality
i recover my reality
i recover the sorry mutt i tamed with cheap beer and lust
and i recover my reality
i recover my reality
i recover into surroundings of apathy towards love
and it comes involuntarily
like my creature of my dreams
only difference is its guarantee of its eternity
and i can't even feel mad
can't miss the comfort of being sad
i just don't want to know i can be a different kind of this animal
but in the end, isn't it just a dream?
no blanket, no progress, just indifference, this is our home
we're wide awake from my sleep
and now we are all alone
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5. |
To Live Out of Spite
04:59
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i'll make it short: yes, i couldn't sleep last night
a summary repeated a few hundred times
who needs the details of the thoughts of lack of life?
the star is bursting as it calls us from outside
i leave the house, take two steps, start sweating as i run
a sudden urge to strangle the sun
all this pent-up angst has to go to somewhere
i need to leave my house, only foul air is present there
cover my eyes from sun shafts that blind me with their care
i garnish pain with laughs to try to leave them unaware
but comfort creeps up as i misstep and trade a glare
dry tears leave my eyes as i notice the damage done
is this the price of avoiding the sun?
when all the kind gestures blend in with my hate
and letters of love blur and shape-shift into rage
is this yellow blanket laughing with me or at my face?
the fingertip kisses on these disgusting hands
that construct messages of nil at my ugly demands
leave me one sweat-drenched awakening away from leaving this place
to learn to fly and strip my hurt from my life
but as i fly, my black gut won't let me die
and who am i other than love and pain inside?
and how could i take my life?
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6. |
(no blanket)
06:42
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there's a tyranny in your little kingdom between your ears
a dictatorship of self-destruction that everyone fears
it overthrew passivity and left him hanging in the guillotine
the blade looms over in inertia, it's all about constructing the scene
the message:
"we have had enough of nothing, it is time to become something"
and the former king knew exactly what that actually means
revolution through his chaos, self-indulgent 'til the payoff
where reaching out from rubble, the sorriest fuck of them all
still trapped in the death machine
remnants of brain matter return the crown
and they knew what that actually means
a revival of their former town
there is no glory, no welcoming party
just absolute tedium in their days
a strange sense of guilt in everyone's gaze
and accommodation in feeling eternally sorry
but for an instant, you could've sworn you were called out
sensory overload, it weaponizes nostalgia
you can't exactly say how, but it affects everyone around
and you flinch as it grabs on and says
"I don't want to die"
and that meant so much, you wanted to know "why"
it just stared at you
it was at that moment that you just knew
you've felt this trace of god knows what
you both latched onto it
it implodes, you implode, you both cry out
"i don't want to die"
is this as large as i perceive?
i just want to be happy
but still i expect you to die
i need for you to stay alive
so, through all of my songs
"you" will always mean "i"
through all of my songs
i will never let you die
i won't let you die
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7. |
Shut Up, Paco
08:34
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through one too many windows
seeps the blanket we must swallow
but through one too few doors
protrudes the tired creature we adored
though one too many screens
comes all the support that we receive
and through imbalanced brain
our heart transmits all of our pain
they get too weak to let it flow
organs fail us all
and we deserve to at last rest
but today i want to remain selfish
today I will bargain for your return
all the people that you love
are all the people that you blessed
all the sentiments we crave
of ill intent, this fucking mess
all too ugly for you to embrace
organs fail us all
and we deserve to at last rest
but today i want to remain selfish
if i went in his place, could we have him back?
when my father tells me we will forget you soon
i tell him "we won't dare, we must not undo"
and he answers "good memories will eventually be all that's left"
but good memories are all i have
this piece of me indulges grief
this piece of me laughs at my pleas
this piece of me should be a crime
but that piece of me crossed our eyes
and you looked grateful, you lived hopeful
at times, exhausted, most times, lively
your battle of 8 years too long
is honored through undying song
i am still scared to use the stairs
to clean up your end-of-life dog hairs
but, shut up, paco
you deserve to let go
the hardest parts aren't the things we've yet to fix
the hardest parts are all the things we've to deal with
and i will not forget your grace, I know I can get through this
and i will not forget your face, I know I can get through this
and i will not forget your place, I know I can get through this
but i wish i could have at least said goodbye
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8. |
dog is eat a food
05:17
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I never write songs of romance
but all of my songs are of love
every ugly nook and cranny
big, black and abysmal love
every misuse of my voice
every chord I create
blood dripping from my open arms
milk & honey is the name
the same hesitation you call cowardice
is the same vulnerability you applaud
which is the same vulnerability you run away from
which is the same hesitation you call cowardice
but loved people hurt people, and hurt people love people
so I sing this song for you, 'cause I know you love me too
I never write songs of romance
but all of my songs are of love
every time you rip me a new one
I know exactly where you're coming from
and I try to reach into you
as you transpire distrust
to the point where we both feel i should've given up by now
but then, who would take care of us?
some threads I desperately preserve
send signals of rage I don't deserve
and the love I return that I believe it deserves
is the worst pain I could have injured
but hurt people love people, and loved people hurt people
still, I sing this song for you, 'cause I know you love me too
my organs function poorly, but this heart still beats
as my mind runs at the speed of light to recognize peace
and, as for you
I'm well aware I lash out towards you too
and I'm sorry for what we've come to do
but hurt people hurt people, it's an ugly thing called love
so i sing this song for you
i know you love me too
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9. |
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I would often go there
To the tiny church there
The smallest church in Sussex
Though it once was larger
How the rill may rest there
Down through the mist there
Toward the Seven Sisters
Toward those white cliffs there
I would often stay there
In the tiny yard there
I have been so glad here
Looking forward to the past here
But now you are alone
None of this matters at all
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milk & honey Rio De Janeiro, Brazil
lo-fi, acoustic emo/folk-punk/whatever-comes-to-mind artist born in Brazil, raised in Florida, USA.
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