Can I Feel What I Want to Feel Again Rock and Roll Records Said You Wanted to Be My Friend
THE ARROGANT SONS OF BITCHES
Iii Thanks FOR Disappointment
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Re-issue of the final release from Long Island's punk/ska mainstays the Arrogant Sons of Bitches featuring glockenspiels, theremins, a full-blown concept and many more incomparably non-punk/ska things. This album took about four years to write, record and release in 2006 and that frustrating procedure eventually concluded the ring. Members went on to Bomb the Music Industry!, Jay Tea, Let Me Crazy, The Rocky Sullivans and college.
1. The Last Bong I Will E'er Hear
2. (I Must Be A Proctologist Considering) All I Do is Bargain With Assholes
3. So Let's Go Nowhere
iv. Kill the President
five. People Pops & Fudgesicles for the Hit Factory
vi. Rocketrocketrocketship
7. one-800-Alarm-ME
8. I've Got Enemies in High Places
9. Disappointment at the Taco Bong
10. Piss Off
11. Take Fun Rotting By Yourself
12. "Yes, I Don't Know What Information technology's Like to Be Around a Bunch of Hipsters"
13. Last on My List
Artwork by Twin Cuts
So, Joe Bove, Mike Costa, Dave Dickerman, Sean McCabe, Sean Qualls, Jeff Rosenstock and JT Turret made this record. Steve Foote put a lot into recording and mixing this matter. God bless him, yo. Alan Douches of Due west W Side Mastering mastered this record and manifestly came down with a wicked cold immediately after. Pitiful, Alan! Jeff wrote the songs and the words and stuff and then everybody said what they thought and at present the songs sound meliorate. Chris Baltrus really wrote almost of the music on track 9 and track 10. Track 10 was also written by Steve Connolly, and this was like back in 1998. Seriously. Dave McWane appears on track 9 courtesy of Big D and the Kids Table. Stu Parnes played tuba on this, James Lynch played upright bass and Bill from the Superspecs lent us his baritone sax. We sang the gang vocals and so did Jenna Beatty, Marie Capasso, John DeDomenici, James Doyle, Renee Jorisch, Christine Mackie, Dave Ringel, Joe Werfelman, Chris Valentino, some members of Dave Dickerman'southward extended family and some dudes from some band who busted in on our recording session. The embrace photo was taken by Joelle Andres. The artwork was put together past Jeff Rosenstock for Twin Cuts.
Our band has not been used to help from people, so having a thanks list that doesn't consist of "mom, dad, girlfriends" is kinda new to the states. And so start off we would like to thank of parents for existence surprisingly supportive of our obnoxious music. Nosotros would also like to thank our friends, girlfriends and other family for putting up with united states having to exit all the time and coming dorsum expecting drinks. Everyone in Big D and the Kids Table deserves a hug the next fourth dimension you see them. Sorry to the staff at the Downtown for getting laid off a few months ago, almost of you have been pretty nice and responded better to our bullshit than most other places. Andy and Ethan of Impale Normal have the patience of saints. Nori and Graham at Dude Records are probably the finest dudes in Japan. Oh yeah, thank you to Beret!, Backseat Conceptions, Lawmaking of tha Cutz, Asbestos Records, Arielle Bilelak, Chris Processed and Middagh Goodwin for helping us sneak on to the Warped Bout two years ago. Streetlight Manifesto, The Know How, I Voted For Kodos, One Fan Band, Catch-22, The Suicide Machines, Suburban Legends, iMusicast, Studio Seven, Chris Murray, Murphy's Kids, Jackmove, Ben from Knoxville, The Ninjas, Odd Arnie, Westbound Train, Never Heard of It, Devastation Made Simple, Taj Motel Trio, Long Shot Hero, Mustard Plug, Rick Johnson Stone and Roll Auto, The Keepaway, Loftier School Football game Heroes, The Fad, The Superspecs, Patent Pending, Jade Burn, Harold's Trousers and the Flaming Tsunamis have all showed the states the best time a ring could come across on the road and/or bummed u.s.a. smokes while we were home and broke. I can't imagine we remembered twenty% of the people who have supported us the past few years, so sorry we forgot to allow you see your proper name in impress.
So that'southward it, guys. Thanks for sticking it out with the states, we promise you lot enjoyed it. Oh yep, Mike uses Pro-Mark sticks. Thanks, Pro-Mark.
The biggest possible thanks go to Steve Foote for working harder than anyone I've ever seen so we could have a good sounding anthology. The second biggest thanks go to Algernon Quashie for working his ass off on the first recording of this and not getting mad when we had to re-record it because we played it badly.
This anthology is dedicated in loving memory of Lauren Connolly and Jay Bennett whose names I'm sure I misspelled thus undoing this dedication. Sorry, y'all two. We beloved you and miss you more every twenty-four hour period.
It also goes out to Dan Lang-Gunn, without whom this would NOT be possible. Keep fightin', dude. You're non missing much... just bad emo.
This work is licensed nether a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike three.0 Us License.
LYRICS AND EXPLANATIONS!!!
Non-liner notes from 2009: I simply finished hand typing all of these liner notes and lyrics 'cause I hadn't had them saved. I will not bore you with too many particulars but I feel similar it would exist a re-issue without something a fiddling extra? So I will say that listening dorsum to this (after non doing so for most iii years) that I'm however pretty proud of information technology and not even horribly embarrassed by most of the lyrics (maybe "the wintertime knocked on my door like a selfish bitch" is pretty bad)... also what a proficient job Steve did recording and what a good job Alan did mastering. Shit!
And so I guess aside from that I'll only tell 2 very short stories about the recording of this record. Kickoff of all, let's go off the discipline. Steve likes to smoke a lot of pot and put a ton of reverb and filibuster on Pro Tools sessions for fun. This makes him an splendid person to hang out with all the time. Anyhow, many nights at Moontower ended with a lot of pot (which was funny 'cause we were never actually that kind of band), usa playing the Southward Park N64 game and drinking beer from the vending car in the studio (labeled "Duff" and "Fudd") until nosotros passed out. Another fun thing to think about is that nosotros recorded the timpanis and Christmas bells (which I even so don't know the official proper noun of) at East Meadow High School, where Sean had graduated years before... I think he even skipped his last exams while we were on tour. Then whenever you hear a bell think nearly a bunch of dudes in their early twenties, smoking cigarettes, running effectually with computers and microphones and cursing while other loftier schoolhouse classes were in session. I'm non even certain we had permission to be there.
When this record was released nosotros played iii CD release shows that were to hopefully jump kickoff the ring or us beingness friends again after a slightly nasty fallout. At the end of the third one we all wanted to hang out and get a beer together, simply we were obligated to sign like 200 posters for some fucking pre-society special that merch straight did. Equally we sat around signing shit instead of actually enjoying our accomplishment that nosotros spent fucking YEARS on, spending time with our friends and relaxing... well, at that point I think nosotros all knew that this was never gonna exist a band again 'crusade this is what being in this band would be like. I'thou really happy to say we're all still buddies and definitely happy to encounter each other if we haven't for a while. And I'm pretty happy that afterward all this time, I'm withal pretty pumped on this record.
Liner notes from 2005: An embarrassing factoid about this record is that we've been trying to put information technology out for four years, thinking information technology was coming out and and so having information technology fail, re-recording it, having My Chemical Romance release a hit anthology with virtually the same verbal album title and now we're pretty psyched it's finally hither.
And then let'south chat a little bit, shall we? We were psyched that Steve Foote had offered to record us in Boston over the summertime of 2004. His band had been on the Warped Bout on and off, and whenever he was home we drove up to Boston in our van, got a lot of parking tickets and lived in sleeping bags in Moontower Studios in Allston. We didn't even shower and it was kinda gross, and I'chiliad not even sure nosotros were supposed to live there, but about a month or so later we had 95% of a tape. The cracking affair nearly Moontower was the bookshelf was filled with random instruments and we did our best to have them all somewhere on the anthology, even if information technology was shit that nosotros didn't know how to use like the Kaos Pad. And then back to that 95%... there were one or two parts that nosotros didn't have time to do upward in Boston, so I recorded some sax, percussion and vocal parts in diverse bathrooms, bedrooms and friends' practice spaces. One thing worth noting was that the gang vocals were recorded in a party atmosphere. We got a case or ii of beer, invited all of our friends down and we had a very difficult time getting things washed, only I still experience like information technology's important for a band to actually have a skillful time on a record... even if that meant some slurring.
Original liner notes from 2003: What I remembered is that when I wrote this album that it was less a series of complaints and a stream of anger than it was a story almost something I experience we all go through when we finally become out of high school and we are inundated with the feeling that we're free from rules. We don't take the instructor forcing u.s.a. to go to class anymore. We are not a part of the system we all hated. Years afterward, I am still having trouble dealing with the fact that I am still function of the system that we all hated. The truth is the minute you feel you're breaking free of the large thing that is holding you down, yous're already locked upwards again. Advertizing. Finances. Friendship. Love. Life is business organization. I tried to avoid all the bullshit, I tried to be a musician and all I heard from my "people" was negativity. Ska is dead. Lose the horns. Tame the chaos. Drib the "fuck"s. If you practice each of these things you lot will be successful financially. You will exist commercially viable and saleable to tape labels and corporations. They would shoot me down whenever I said that those things did non concern me. There were a thousand bands who would drop their convictions in iii seconds if they were offered ten thousand bucks. We weren't one of them so people moved on to other acts.
So at that place nosotros were, and that's where nosotros are now. Unwelcome in our hole-and-corner because our undercover really ended upwards existence a system. Live everything else. I had always figured that the clandestine would exist the ane place we could suspension away from that system just thanks to MTV commodifying punk stone, this has been taken away from united states of america. So I would similar to invite you, the listener, the reader, to create a new surreptitious. Ane where we really don't take to follow whatever sets of rules. One where we don't have to exist controlled by anyone but ourselves. This is an album near breaking out of that old system. hope yous savour it fucker.
The Last Bell I Will Ever Hear
Well, I lied to you again. I said I wanted to exist friends and I said that it would never end simply I was out before information technology began. I bit my nails and wrote away, I had been waiting for the twenty-four hours that it was the end.
The clouds, grey and roofing the sky, barely let the sun sideslip by at about 2:05. Everyone was starting to cry. At that place's cypher that needs more explaining. You lot CAN'T RUN MY FUCKING LIFE ANYMORE!!!
I'm going dwelling tonight to tear your pictures off the wall and I won't spend another night waiting for your precious telephone call. I won't feel sorry for anything I do because I alive this life for me, non you lot!
Don't think that I'm gonna call y'all tomorrow to recollect the days gone past. five, 4, 3, 2, one... It'S OVER! and you tin buss my ass and if I never see you over again that'll be as well soon.
(I Must Exist a Proctologist Considering) All I Practice is Deal With Assholes
Reverse to what you think and what you've seen on MTV, you don't accept to be an asshole all the time. Watch me every bit I accept this pocketknife out my back to cut wrists and throat. I'll laugh, bleed to death, asphyxiate.
I've been used for all I'grand worth, tin't feed your ego anymore or be that friend who would take a shot for you. Why not do one fucking matter that isn't for your fucking self? You lot'll cry and I'll laugh at you 'cause I'll exist gone tomorrow and y'all'll expect into the mirror and you'll lie when yous say y'all care.
"I tin can't believe he's gone for skilful."
"I wish I could have said something."
Don't kid yourself, you were never there for me. Complacently, you lot downtalk to me and all the kids agree yous're irreverent as you feign respect for me. Anger and pressure builds up inside of me, I'll explode and you'll fake a pout.
Are y'all happy at present? Yes, you got what you wanted, y'all got your third second chance and saved the fifteen dollars out of your pocket. My last volition and testament will claim you shall get stoned to shit at my big funeral, 'crusade I'll be gone tomorrow. Yous'll talk to your new shiny friends and you'll lie when yous claim to care.
"Let'southward have a toast to our onetime friend."
"He'll exist in that location in our memories."
Go fuck yourself. I won't waste material my time at that place.
And information technology's so easy to just requite upwards.
And then Allow's Go Nowhere
The autumn came in like concrete at my face. Location hasn't inverse but we're not living in the same identify. It's useless to answer (respond) to anything I've said I've said. I hate to quote this song all incorrect, but "Why Can't We Even so Exist Friends?"
You lot're trying to upset me merely you're just baffling me with your actions. I am wrong. Yous are wrong. We subdivide into two factions. It's made me retarded and I wish I didn't let information technology. Everything is upside down. I want those times I can't forget and everything is always falling apart. Y'all know, I'd dismember my flaws if it meant that I could be with you.
How can I be so self-important in the world today? My dis-ease of pick will be arriving soon anyway. We justify our selfishness in every fucking fight and I hate to quote this vocal all incorrect, but "Information technology Doesn't Brand Information technology Right."
Fuck the world. Everything is breaking and changing and everything inside of me is breaking and changing. Why can't I ever let information technology go? If I concentrate real hard I might not ever fifty-fifty know that everything is always falling apart and I'd ignore my dreams in exchange for you existence true.
It's gonna rain this night so everything is miserable. Smoke some more than, and then I'll go back in and hate. Information technology's gonna pelting this evening but it's gonna terminate eventually. Allow'southward anticipate the sun and warmth and raise our fists and say:
EVERYTHING IS Always FALLING APART Merely I Tin'T.
Fell fast asleep, woke upwards then hands. Permit'southward make our dreams transcend reality. Allow's not merely seethe, surrender and go dorsum to sleep. Wake up. Don't fall apart.
Kill the President
What's the bullshit for? Verbal battleground, syllables of war. I shut myself off and it happens again. You're not my friend, you lot're not my friend, you lot're not my friend.
The winter knocked on my door like a selfish bitch. I'yard glad that you oasis't got your wish, 'crusade in the cold all lonely I've been thinking of everyone but you.
And it feels similar seventh grade again and none of this will e'er end. I'g simply your public malcontent, some other extraneous trend. Don't endeavor to be similar me considering I'thousand not one to compete only to obtain the status of a symbol of idolatry.
This time I'd really rather be alone. Tin can we forget this? I tin can just become home. This time I'd really rather be alone.
Acting unaffected past this of manus of fate, proverb "Everything'due south OKAY!!!" with a straight face up. I remember when you said I could count on y'all for anything... and I yet concur on but yous'll hold off and play some other impaired charade over again. I'm driving my car dwelling house and never walking in the rain once more. I miss the odor of Taco Bell and places that we knew as well well. It's driving my crazy.
This time I'd really rather be lonely. Can we forget this? I can only become home. This time I'd really rather exist alone. I'm bleeding profusely from my insides, while you're smiling 'cause you're stealing all of my lines. I'thou doubling over and I'm taking my own side.
Over and over once again, I'm so useless. Now you're becoming everything. Well, was I ever annihilation? Everyone I love always hates me. My judgment's been off every time. Your words will always still be mine.
And I'll be slapped on crowded streets, and in some lame weep of defeat I'll open up upwards and shout information technology loud, "Fuck that! Turn off the new sound."
Over and over over again, I'm then useless. Now yous're becoming everything. Well, was I always anything? Anybody I honey always leaves me. My judgment's off this time for the terminal time. For the last fourth dimension. What's left beside me now? No i in this globe is ever listening. Pay attention now.
At home alone again all night. Expect the worst and you'll be right.
People Pops and Fudgesicles for the Hit Mill
I'thousand sorry that you've all gone soft. Are advance apologies required now for pissing y'all off? I'll deny all of this to your face. Quit claiming to be indie rock because you aren't contained and your rock and roll's fucked. I'll become the coffin, you lot supplied your own hammer.
Nosotros'll put a blast in information technology, I hope the scene can fit. Nosotros'll throw it in the pit as a sacrifice for middle-anile men and screaming girls. Your scene is full of shit so start killing information technology. Don't exist the hypocrite. The last teary-eyed, thrift store mope star in the world.
A victim of the latest hoax. The iconoclasts have lied and you're not in on the joke. Bear witness they're not what they merits to be (your money, they're gonna get your coin.) Criticize all that I've said, 'cause if I wasn't then pretentious I'd cash in on the trend, do lines, double fist pills and O.D.
Stop singin' it! Stop singin' it! Y'all're too serious! How can y'all crack a smile if you tin't laugh at yourself? You lot think you're legit but you're just the idiot. Hither's how to deal with it, bring the asshole and the douchebag level downwardly.
I'g not a part of your scene where fashion meets choreography. (your haircut is stupid, your pants are uncomfortable, yous systematically plan every bad-mannered forced guitar spin, your emotion is a joke, your emotion is a joke, your emotion is bullllllfuckingshit)
(all your favorite bands exercise coke. pitiful.)
Stop singing that shit nosotros're tired of it. Stop singing information technology, oh, stop singing information technology. Kicking the luggage and the ego to the ground. Stop singing that shit we're tired of it. Stop singing, oh, and then I can kick the rotting carcass of your sound.
RocketRocketRocketship
Exhausted all the things I've loved and tortured myself. Can I only exist happy? When everybody jumps on everything I said and everybody's telling me that nosotros're best friends, I'd rather be dead or dying.
And then someone cut me a cheque cashed for all that I'k worth, divide it by what I've spent and calculate my new worth. I never got nothing for anything. I feel I've done everything for nothing.
And maybe we tin can fly away from here.
Surf of the droppings of a cleaved scene
in our sub-suburban wasteland.
Pack up everything and get out of here.
Everything I fought for is expressionless to me
in our sub-suburban wasteland.
You were wrong. I'll buy the farm this evening. I'd similar to spend fourth dimension where no one tin can see me. I'one thousand pissing down the cracks of a cleaved dream: UNITED Nosotros CAN MAKE OUR OWN DESTINY! Come on, nobody's with me.
Merely ship me off with a bank check cashed for all that I'one thousand worth, and I'll say I'll feel improve but I'll actually feel worse. I never experience similar feeling anything. I only feel everything for goose egg.
We're breaking down while breaking in.
ane-800-Warning-ME
I woke up today to think most a dream I had, a dream I left and then far away. Ten seconds pass. And every bit I call back, 20 minutes laissez passer. I've failed my mission. I'm a waste of life, a waste of mind. Where's my appetite. Chalk up one girlfriend + two broken cars + my band + friends are aught more than departing shots not taken. Wait how jaded I can be!
When I turned xvi I already felt to old to exist in this entire scene of sighing lazily at unaccomplished dreams.
Yeah, it's my home but I think it's time to get. I'll hitting once again then I don't wake up. I got no home and I got nowhere to go. I simply can't seem to get on top of this situation normal all fucked up.
Still, I lay in bed and think of all the dreams I've had and clever remarks I have said. Information technology seems similar they all mean nothing. Snooze. Alarm reset. That'south eight more minutes. This disaster tin can't exist because I'thou not awake to live it. I can't seem to place where life went wrong. Information technology'southward the wrong chords. It's one lame song. I never know the exist to become off at 'til it'southward passed.
Kick me in the ass. A free shot. Become information technology over with and kick me until I bleed. It seems that's all you need. Let'southward get! This 1's on me!
I don't call up I'm going exterior today. I'll stay in bed all solar day. Declare a personal holiday. So you lot tin take my page right out of your phonebook. Fire my 7 digits to ashes. I won't be awake in any of your classes. Light another smoke as this day passes.
I don't call back I'm going exterior today. I'll stay in bed all day. Declare a personal holiday. So yous tin take my page right out of your phonebook. Burn my seven digits to ashes. I won't be awake in any of your classes. Eyelids are the sky every bit this day passes.
I wanna stay comatose forever.
I've Got Enemies in Loftier Places
Stop!!! Because I know just what you're doing. I've decoded all the lines of encryption I've been fed. Terminate!!! Your fucking superpowers aren't working. I won't suck you off to get something I desire, I'll requite up instead.
So please stop thinking for me, stop looking out for me and just because I'm paranoid does not hateful you're not after me.
You: awash in a ocean of pretention. You've got names to drop and bands to greenbacks in on in your hugger-mugger. Me: Obviously, music's none of my business concern. Aesthetic disease and enemies in high places to keep me down.
Then please terminate thinking for me, stop looking out for me and just because I'm paranoid does not mean you're not subsequently me and I was never on the team and then don't try to play brawl with me and don't recall I requite two shits what you think is best for me and my career because I don't. Try to ignore me, but I'll exist the scar that won't go away.
- "Turn down the horns or you lot tin't exist emotional."
- "Scream, 'YEAH!!!!'"
- "meh......."
Well my demeanor's inexplicable because the moment you expose your boredom we become expendable and I'll defy your scene where every band is interchangeable. The image you've commodified is not your own. Sympathize I'm doing something different because I'm capable and I do information technology 'cause I like it and I like it because you don't.
Shut your mouth about it, no ane wants to hear about it, music's an artistic statement, you lot don't take to speak for it and I was never on the team so don't endeavor to play ball with me. Don't remember I give two shits what you call up is all-time for me and my career.
Thwarting at the Taco Bell
Clock is tickin' and my shelf life is up.
Wrong side of the tracks, wrong side of the argue, incorrect thing that I lack, I lack common sense. My life. This is all I know and I've got no time, I've got no mind, I've got nowhere to become. Can't live in this world of a 9 to 5. You tin can accept your fifteen minutes I'll get my whole life. My life. This is all I know and I've got no fourth dimension, I've got no mind, I've got nowhere to go.
Career tests all came back inconclusive. All that I can give is a half asses effort at being similar you lot. I'one thousand not normal similar you. There's nothing I can say that I oasis't said v,000 times. Y'all've got your style to alive and I've got mine. There's nothing to say. I've said information technology 15,000 times. Buss it goodnight, buss me goodbye.
You think information technology never hurts? All the confusion? All the itches in my nerves and all the hate in my blood? My blood. This isn't what I need. Occupational conformity won't put my mind at ease, no. Clock is tickin' and my shelf life is up and all bets have been placed for when the bicycle is gonna terminate, it's gonna stop, it's gonna. This is what I need. Aye. Aye. This is life and this is love and this is my release. Yes.
It pains my soul to separate like this only I approximate that'due south how it is. I'll leave myself to mine. Our paths can't cross now. I wish I had i more take a chance now. There'south nix I tin can say that I haven't said 5,000 times. Yous've got your mode to live and I've got mine. At that place's nothing to say. I've said information technology 15,000 times. Kiss it goodnight, buss me farewell.
It'south been a twelvemonth or two since we've communicated. So don't tell me that you're one to trust or believe in. I'll believe zero. I volition not trust anyone once again.
My brain is twitching and I still tin can't surrender. I've gone far off the course but I guess I'm never gonna stop. The clock is tickin'. Sad, I've got no more shelf life for ya, baby. Time bomb'south tickin', I'll commence blowing upwards. I'll construe your rejection as a lack of trust. You won't love me one time I'm washed up.
I'm all washed up and I tin't trust no one.
Piss Off
I remember way dorsum when when I wanted you to be mine and now that I kind of had I wonder was it all merely a waste material of fourth dimension and did information technology make sense jumping into something knowing that I'd get hurt? I don't know, but my boss thinks not it makes me less productive at work.
And all my friends told me to look out 'crusade you lot were treating me like shit. And I swallowed my pride and bit my tongue and I thought nothing of it. And I blame the whatevership'south termination on why things are never fine. And I dreaded this moment from the twenty-four hours that we met but I have to say goodbye.
Now all I do is potable and smoke with all my friends. I regret not moving on fifty-fifty though I said I did, aye, apathetic blah, how many times exercise I accept to phone call you merely because y'all called me start? You lot see, we're nada together but a bunch of obligations that just make me feel worse.
And why am I the concluding to know when you ride some other guy? And why should I take even cared that night yous said you lot cried? Well, my stomach threw upwardly my daily nutrition and your antimorals robbed me blind. Well, I love you and you blew it and you lot broke your own middle so eat this last cheerio.
And all that money nosotros blew on each other did it mean so little that you could just detect some other to supervene upon me, my whatever, I mean, piss off, get to hell. When tin I get over this stop hating myself? And every bit the solar day goes on I'll find someone better. I'll go information technology alone and brave the cold weather condition through these blizzard-like conditions screaming (if I'g nevertheless alive), "Piss off! This is the last goodbye!"
Have Fun Rotting By Yourself
I'm takin' the last train abode tonight. I'm drinking only I can't get drunker than this. I'm going home alone again with a checklist of my ex-best friends and a headache the size of your piffling white lies, blood dripping from my head into sore blackness eyes. Place my brain betwixt my hood and the vent. Walk dwelling house from the station, no friends.
Killing fourth dimension by killing myself slowly. Drugs and booze and tobacco companies own me. You said you never meant any harm, simply you meant what you lot did. Now I'chiliad injure, you're alarmed. I'thou a replaceable moving-picture show in your house, I'grand a disposable grapheme from your by. I'm not feeling safe, come on, selection up the fucking phone. I can't accept when this night ends I'grand going home solitary.
I'M RUNNING FAR Away FROM MY Bug. I'Grand NOT WAITING FOR You TO Determine WHAT TO PACK. I'M Not TALKING CALIFORNIA. THERE'S NEVER BEEN A BETTER TIME TO Exit OF AMERICA AND I WILL GIVE MY Terminal SO LONG SUCKERS AND I'LL WRITE Downwards GOODBYES ON THE BACK OF Former POST-ITS As I Get out AND Dice. RESPECT THE FACT THAT YOU Will Non BE SEEING ME Once again NO MORE WHITE FLAGS I SWEAR THIS TIME We'RE NEVER GONNA TALK Once again Considering Information technology'S ME VERSUS THEM.
"Yeah, I Don't Know What It'south Similar to Exist Around a Bunch of Hipsters."
Hey again, I hope you know you ruined my life. The bitterest words are never quite sincere. Only I gotta tell yous one affair: information technology'due south still to me. Information technology'south in my claret and yous don't feel the flow.
I sat there, ignoring the ever-nowadays real earth, wondering why people accept to change all the time and nearly those who shift with the trends. Well, nosotros both know I know better than to betoken the blame at somebody else but myself, so I'll put these words on the shelf with pictures of old friends.
I can sit and ask myself what I'1000 doing wrong merely I'm right this time. These are my convictions that you're vehement down. I won't sell out, fifty-fifty though it's all anyone in this world thinks we're practiced for now. She's not with usa anymore.
I saturday there feeling frustrated. The fall heaven was rapidly turning to dusk and I'm feeling and then fucking alone in this earth. Yous won't believe me when I tell you, but everything that I respect is absent in you. And so go close me out and shut up every bit this scene rages on.
I can't determine what to practise with people like you. I can't accept information technology on the chin 'cause these are my convictions that you're tearing down. I won't requite up even though it's all anyone in this earth thinks nosotros're proficient for now. He's not with us anymore. I'm not irresolute for the world.
(there'south a fourth dimension to let it go, when it comes I'll let yous know)
I take this mental anguish, fist thrown at my caput. Because I'm right this time. Yeah, I'1000 correct this time. I'thousand and so correct this fourth dimension. These are my convictions that you're tearing down. I won't requite upwardly even though it'due south all anyone in this globe thinks we're expert for now. He'south not with united states anymore. I'm not irresolute for the world.
I'm not changing for the world as nosotros get! go! get! go! go! fists first to the world. Your physical morals mold life's prison house cells and with fashion every bit warden, you're prisoners in hell in your world. Rot in hell in your world. I'm not irresolute for your globe.
Terminal on My List
I wish I could be mad and break something.
I wish they took me instead, you were nothing
short of all the things I'll never be.
You would never be bitter like me.
You solved my problems similar information technology was your job.
I never thought that one 24-hour interval y'all'd be gone
or else I'd tell y'all all those belatedly night talks
really did mean everything to me.
Bad times for everyone today.
I only wish this could exist your pen across the folio.
I just wish this could be your vocal for you to sing.
I only wish that information technology was me in the car that solar day.
I only wish that I said goodbye before you went away,
then yous could tell me how to get through these days.
Miniature golf game cannot exist played
one time the seasons change,
end this summertime vacation.
I knew the sun would shine again
only I didn't know that this one was our last.
This summertime started off me pacing in a room
feeling comfort simply seconds long
hoping passerby's were you lot.
Not-so-afar memories.
I cried that nighttime 'cause they took you took presently.
Bad times for anybody today.
I simply wish this could exist your pen across the page.
I only wish this could exist your vocal for you to sing.
I only wish that it was me in the car that day.
I only wish that I said goodbye earlier you went abroad.
Like everybody else, I have my own shit list and
I desire you to know you were at the bottom of it.
Certain technicalities and indescribabilities
I can't put my finger on it.
Now I'g in this fucking van
five,000 things I won't forget.
(i won't forget your face / don't forget this)
howilongtoshareeternallifewithyouhowilongtoshare-eternallifewithyouhowilongtoshareeternallifewithyo-uhowilongtoshareeternallifewithyouhowilongtosha-reeternallifewithyouhowilongtoshareeternallifewith-youhowilongtoshareeternallifewithyouhowilongtos-hareeternallifewith...
and i only wish it could exist your pen across the page and i just wish this could be your song for you to sing and i only wish that information technology was me in the automobile that mean solar day.
I only wish that you lot said goodbye before you went away then you could tell me how to get through these days.
If we had just another 24-hour interval,
we'd take a brawl instead of pissing it all abroad.
Three cheers for all those summertime days.
Hey! Hey! Yes!
"how i long to share eternal life with y'all" -- lauren connolly
Source: https://quoteunquoterecords.com/qur023.htm
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