1. |
Quit Your Job pt.2
02:16
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This week I’ve cycled fifty-odd miles on my Dad’s old bike/
With his bag patched and hanging on my back/
And I forget why I’m here with the wind/
And the sounds of the traffic in my ears/
It always makes me believe/
In naïve sincerity and all the things dear to me/
I guess fifty miles isn’t that far/
But it’s far enough/
Now the wind is rushing in my ears/
And the rain is running in my eyes/
And I don’t want to die/
On my way to some dead end nine-to-five/
‘Cause of some worthless fucking driver/
In his 4x4, who doesn’t care if he takes/
Someone’s life/
As long as he saves a few minutes of his time/
And if it happens I don’t know what I’d have my last words be/
But I’m oh so fucking sorry that I wasted every second that I did/
On a job I always hated/
And if it happens I just hope it happens on/
My way home; while I’m singing at the top of my lungs/
I hope it happens when I mean every word/
And if I live until tomorrow/
I’m gonna quit my job/
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2. |
Recounted Conversations
02:50
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Looking back she said it’d been a bad day/
And "I am permanently in search of heartbreak/
But not how you think; I like songs recounting/
Half remembered conversations/
Thoughts shared with long forgotten lovers/
I don’t think they were really better times"/
So I said I can’t help but write songs about myself and I’m sick of it/
It’s just I don’t want to presume to know how someone else feels or thinks/
And all I know is a vague sense of unease in my own skin/
Which makes for a lot of awkwardness in situations like these/
"From the first chord I feel my hear beat faster/
An involuntary reaction to the sound of/
Rust corrosion, ancient pickups anxious shuffled feet/
This is what I exist for; this is everything/"
So I said I can’t help but write songs about myself and I’m sick of it/
It’s just I don’t want to presume to know how someone else feels or thinks/
And all I know is a vague sense of unease in my own skin/
Which makes for a lot of awkwardness in situations like these/
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3. |
The Half Empty
04:55
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I’ve felt conflicted and a lack of conviction/
I’d quit drinking but the beer makes me brave/
Here’s the half empty/
I’m always wrapped in thought my stomach tied in knots/
Forever trapped in a general sense of anxiety/
Feeling reckless and unlucky/
I can’t stop dwelling on tiny moments in my life/
In which I decide this feels momentous yeah this is momentous like/
Even if we never speak again/
I’ll always remember the day we started talking/
As the day that I realised/
That it’s all in my head, it’s all in my head it’s all in my head/
This is how it is and that was how it was/
And no amount of wishing will change anything/
But the sharp pain of a fresh tattoo/
Can give way to something new/
To mark each memory and mourn the moments past
And still move on/
But it doesn’t always help and I think that I shouldn’t be allowed/
To open my mouth/
Because it never comes out how I wanted it to sound/
And if I’m lucky I’ll get one or two songs I don’t hate out of this/
Right fucking mess/
That I have made, out of something that could have been so good/
Even if we never speak again/
I’ll always remember the day we started talking/
As the day that I realised/
That it’s all in my head, it’s all in my head it’s all in my head/
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Block Fort Norwich, UK
Nerdy DIY pop punk un-supergroup from Norwich, serial cat botherers and expert tea/ coffee drinkers.
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