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Just like the way your brain edits out the dark parts when you blink,
I smoke all day to soften the hard parts of when I think.
Now I’m Sad (Boo Hoo)
My concept of happiness is completely based on fiction,
accustomed to disappointment from the human condition.
I’ve been fed exaggerated emotions and I’ve taken them as wisdom.
Romance has torn me a new one, and now I’m sad.
Try and fish for some compliments, try and find some self worth.
Try to fall in love with another person, try to be loved by the earth.
But when you’re met with constant let downs it feels like things can only get worse.
Expectation tore me a new one and now I’m sad.
Hindsight fucked me up, the past facilitates resentment,
and I get told not to dwell on it, and to live for the present.
Living in first person is hard when you’re not on a track,
and if the present is a gift then I want to send it back.
Roger Ebert said “If you have to ask what it symbolizes then it didn’t”
and I try to work my way around this by being blatant.
I’ve got tonnes of wasted metaphors across my writing pad,
but the only thing I feel honest in expressing is the fact that I am sad.
She said that all I’ll ever be is a creep, little creepy.
A consequence of being unkempt, trippin’ and unhappy.
Michael said that we should be ashamed for not molding them into better people.
I propose you accept the notion that sometimes people can’t help their emotions.
I propose you accept that notion before you lose all your friends.
Thomas Saunders Lloyd Weber
I was born to be mothered. In that sense nothing has changed.
I now wail when I’m troubled. I don’t grow up I just parody myself.
I used to hear your voice everyday, so now when i hear you it freaks me the fuck out.
Otherwise I’d forget it, so when it speak it comes flooding back to me.
I don’t want a life ruled by money, but when you’re poor it’s hard not to think about.
I don’t want to change myself to impress you, but when you’re lonely it’s hard not to do.
I’m not in it to get big, but saying that I’m pretty scared of just being forgotten.
I wouldn’t want to sell my soul, but just because it doesn’t feel like I’ve got one.
I was born to be mothered, in that sense nothing has changed.
I will retreat with my brothers, when maternity enslaves.
Care Not For Your Clubnights
Indoctrinated into a tribe of the musically unkind,
where the pretense of a scene can overrule a fragile mind
until a boxticking system closes doors to outside.
I mean you’ll look pretty cool but a part of you will die,
and when I say you look cool I mean only to your friends
the general opinion is you act like a bellend.
Your arrogance is based on a personal preference
and that preference is based on your scenes consensus.
Masses with the live for the weekend mentality,
caught up with the illusion of indiduality.
Care not for your clubnights the fake alternative,
you’re just another group of youths going out and getting pissed.
I am the guy stood against the wall at the club
watching dollies and peacocks dance and get drunk,
and when the chorus kicks in they all sing along
and I watch their mouths fade away while they all get the verses wrong.
I’m not saying I’m any better
I fall for the same traps as well.
But at least I can admit it,
at least I can admit that I’m boring as hell.
Oh man, am I bleeding from my nose again?
I swear this happens every month, Mum and Dad they hooked me up.
Oh man is this thing rubber, or plastic?
Or maybe a dead guys! Is that why it doesn’t grow?
Oh mum I know you only wanted boys.
Can I feel it through my ballsack?
I can feel it in my nose.
There is a line from my ovaries to my sinuses
and this thing on my front just disguises
my mothers insecurities.
Young girls makes her feel old.
The Only Way I Could Save Myself Now Is If I Started Firebombing
This debilitating cynicism leaves me throwing fists
blindly, unkindly I deliberately hide so that you can find me.
Unmentionable, the seeking of attention that we require,
and I impede my own libido with a silent fear of fire.
Hold me higher than your loved ones,
mask my bad intentions.
I wish I was as pure as my lustlessness suggested.
Go fall, I’ll hold you back.
surround myself with your artifacts.
My mind wanders with a sense of urgency.
I watch you fade away from me.
I discreetly try to imbibe the origins of your resentment.
Above me you reside as I strive for mere acceptance.
Escaping dignity, I ruined the pedestals I built,
and bruised by your excuses I characteristically wilt,
condemned by a guilt that I can’t abandon, I lessen to the floor.
I’ve derobed your more times with my eyes than you have with your paws.
Chuck & Buck, Suck & Fuck!
I miss everything even my milk teeth,
from before I got overwhelmed by discourse.
If my deciduous years are an aperitif,
then shit is my main course.
So I have nothing more to give, now I am scared of narrative.
Let me stay still now.
Now I have more to do, than just remain inside my room.
Leave me alone now.
It’s OK, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either
I don’t want to be awake again,
I spend my days with my head in my hands.
If I go outside I’ll fall apart.
I am mostly scared of passing time,
the world it seems gets more unkind.
Inevitable tragedy will soon be mine.
I am looking for an easy place,
to mask my thoughts behind my face.
Oh brown baked column of victory.
Maybe I should just pack up and run away again,
and let you forget that you where once my friend.
Then watch another go on and do better without me.
But I could not go away, not if I wanted to.
I can hide from friends but I cannot hide from you.
These chemical reactions are dividing me.
Self-deprecating thoughts are interrupting all the time,
emphasizing all the traits that I wish weren’t mine.
They speak louder than everybody
I try to keep my eyes closed as my outlook isn’t bright,
compulsively complaining when I haven’t got the right.
I hate the way that I think and act.
I want to end reality but I feel hesitant,
optimistic that the future will be more concerned than the present,
and so for today I’ll remain intact.
Deep Down I’m Really Kirk Van Houten
Sad songs won’t make up for the things that I have done,
and sorry means nothing when I haven’t learnt my lessons.
Repeat my lines as if I’m a victim, repeat my lines as if I am kind.
I am a thief and a liar, and they mean less to me every time.
Paint myself as an angel,
I don’t deserve your praise.
I wear my sadness on my sleeve,
when I am happy most days.
You Couldn’t Teach Me Integrity
Theres a likely chance that if you’re a girl I’ve met I’ve imagined a life with you.
I know that probably sounds obsessive but that’s just what I do.
I’m desperate like a praying atheist, I need love I need affection and I hate myself for this.
Get over yourself I say under my breath, when I get annoyed with the thoughts in my head.
I don’t deserve to say I’m sad, I don’t know what sadness is.
I’m nothing more than complaints from a dumb spoilt kid.
I crave love, I crave attention,
and I hate myself for this.
I’m embarrassed by my depression,
when I put things in perspective
I recorded this album in my dining room. To be completely honest I’m quite paranoid about putting it out. My first release got a response far better than I’d ever hoped and I guess to a degree I’m worried that people who really enjoyed the first album will be dissapointed by this. I released my first album alongside apologies for the poor guitar playing and after a year and a half I feel like people may have expected me to improve more, which I really haven’t. Most of the songs on this album are the first take of me trying to record them (some needed a few more takes as I messed up my first attempts) and so it’s riddled with mistakes, but hopefully you can forgive that. Where my first album was tied to the topic of dealing with a breakup, this album has less of a definate focus. Most of the songs are about coping with and deconstructing my sadness, some are about odd things that happened in my past, and others are just about people and scenes. They where mostly fueled by stupid dark thoughts, and through songwriting I’ve tried to get past them.
I’m not signed to any labels, I don’t pay for any adverts or send out any press releases, so hopefully if you do enjoy my album, please blog about it, or play it to a friend, or post it on a forum or anything. I don’t want any money for my music, just for it to reach as many people as are willing to listen. I’d like to thank my friend Joseph Thorpe for recording me, and album artwork will be up on this blog in a few days. I really hope you enjoy!
Narcissist On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown (2012)
1 - Blink
2 - Now I’m Sad (Boo Hoo)
3 - Little Creepy
4 - Thomas Saunders Lloyd Weber
5 - Care Not For Your Clubnights
6 - Nostril Tampon
7 - The Only Way I Could Save Myself Now Is If I Started Firebombing
8 - Chuck & Buck, Suck & Fuck!
9 - It’s OK, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either
10 - Deep Down I’m Really Kirk Van Houten
11 - You Couldn’t Teach Me Integrity