1. |
forever untitled
01:06
|
|||
|
red white and green silk covers the concrete walls of desperation
as the crippled christmas trees fall out from kitchen windows.
in the country of unpaid bills i keep searching for a face in the crowd
that i could feel familiar with: we're too afraid to live.
we thought that would never happen again, but black uniforms are out from closets.
|
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2. |
afraid of trapping feet
02:00
|
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|
i'm carrying this nervousness since i was born
and every time i smiled i felt a sour taste in my mouth
that never goes away.
our youth smells like a mixture of energy drinks and champagne
this is something i don't want to take part of.
so it goes.
|
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3. |
permanent loser
03:12
|
|||
|
laying on the hot concrete, my nose touches the ground
tired of "not being the same", my words reach noone, but the dirt.
so here's my message (fuck you!) to all the teachers and parents and dickheads:
you're the reason why i fuck everything up.
i feel stucked between last lines of books and last sips of beer.
between clenched fists and endless brawls,
between my own word and what i want to tell with them.
hot boiling mudd fullfills my skull, i'm crying the syrup of liberty.
now i understand "man is born free and everything he's in shackles"
i guess it's time to recalculate, it's time to re-ask those questions:
so what's the point of trying, if all i find is burnt down bridges
with the arsons on the other side?
|
||||
4. |
f.u.b.a.r.
03:13
|
|||
|
the sound of opening a door echoes through the Public Relations Division
sometimes words can heal a man, you know
sometimes change heals everything.
there are sentences in my mind, but if write them down they all fall apart
just like these chords that i play: confused and fucked up.
it's hard enough to change in this town of concrete walls and concrete minds.
and keep the memories of the times we had: stairways and parking lots.
and even if it's like i'm digging my own grave, i'm still gonna avoid this pattern.
and even if it seems like i care about nothing: i want to live instead of pretending.
the sound of closing a door echoes through the Public Relations Division
life is full, just be brave enough to take.
|
||||
5. |
conclusion
01:37
|
|||
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