The Kids Don’t Know What The Fuck Love Is

What is this bottomless source of inspiration they call love?
Will it give me a reason to step out of the door in the morning
What is this immortal and uncontrollable desire they call love?
Will it make me finally clear the dust in these arteries?
What is this mythical force they call love?
Will it’s claw reach out and slap the knife from my throat?
What is this all knowing, all seeing entity they call love?
Will it stroke my hair and stop the late night sobbing?

They tell us not to worry, they tell us it’s not everything
Then they tell us to fucking consume by every square inch
Self-indulgent scriptures of bloated romantics
Acting like it’s as natural as wearing the shirt on your frame
And if you dare turn up to the social gathers on your own
Then you’re the outsider, the kid that got picked last in P.E
Arm in arms they give you the most detestable looks
Forcing you back like a laser beam back to the dungeon where you belong

Disingenuous sonnets shoved down my fucking ears every day
From deflated personalities, who have beam devoid of it long ago
Trying their hardest to recall a time a fallacy could serve as the fuse
I’d give anything to feel something so powerful
That’d it’ll reduce me to such a pathetic snivelling wreck
But I’d be thankful, because I was eroding on the floor with another

Would I stop feeling so lazy, if someone else was there egging me on?
Get your arse out of that chair you’ve got to keep my interest
Would I stop feeling so hollow, if someone else was there to make me react?
Unfasten my bra and I’ll bring this poor lost soul back to life
Would I stop feeling like I want to die, if someone else was there to stop me?
Oh honey you’re a god, you’re an Adonis, you’re anything you want me to say
Would I stop feeling like their’s no point, if someone else was there to give me context?
I’ll rip you open from your insides and give you subtext

You sit there from a top a makeshift stepladder and bark orders at me
To make a rough estimate for every aspect of my life from here on out
But when I can’t even begin to grasp this simple and yet universal concept
How could I even be sure of 1% of what could reach out and trip me up
Student loans, Career prospects, Mortgage, Kids college funds and Pensions
I can’t even get her to hold my hand before she leaves on the 61
Oh god what’s the point of trying, I’m lagging behind the crowd by 2 years
And now suddenly 80 years till my grave feels like it’s tomorrow

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

There’s Majesty In The Art Of Doing Nothing

Gorging on the flavours of a grass reed
The tip of my hat blinding of the worlds evils
Like shirtless apes poking a ball around
While sniffing the skirts of innocent passers-by
And low end music students butcher Skinny Love
In the hopes of finding validation in their life choices
While the ladies parade the cobble catwalk
With shoestring outfits on a shoestring budget

I live for them milliseconds chances
Where the ends of our arm hairs collide
If just for a fraction, while we try and get comfortable
It’s the perfect catalyst for the event
Where the gravity between us grows more intense
A mysterious phenomenon that we can’t explain
I better hold onto your hand dear
Before you float away from us, into the stars unknown

Conversations flow like butter
Our limbs tangle like taffy
Subjects slide away like grease
Smiles behind fringes like sugar
Top it off with caricature descriptions
Slathered head to toe with syrup

Barraged by thoughts of tracing fridge magnet drawings on your side
Whilst you stand just outside of my bedroom window
Your silhouette contrasting with the collapse of the day time
Like a monument erected behind a cathedral stain window
Trying to keep away from miles away, my current Everest
There’s nothing I can do, I have to abandon my cool, and gush to you

With my limbs and tongue infused with velocity
I offer refuge from the English weathers tantrum
We could widdle away the hours trying to find the moles on our arms
Playing thumb wars, I spy and analyse the dye in our eyes
Because if you ask me there’s an art in wasting time
With the most immaculate company a boy could hope to find

~Dedicated To Esme~

Teen Angst Beach Ass Life

So hey, when I’m not working on writing the words and the things I’m usually messing around making mix-tapes, like tons and tons of mix-tapes like… I need a profitable hobby amount of mix-tapes.

I kind of get a bunch of tracks together with a flowing narrative and add A TON of Foley and Sound Effects to help drive the story along, to try and make it a bit more of an experience if you want it to be. I dunno since I’m 100% inspired by music when I write I thought maybe some of you could benefit from it too? Give it a good ol’ play 🙂

This mix-tape is one of the first ones I made (God knows how many ladies have a copy of the first draft of this thing) and it’s about finding romance at the beach, cos I was made to live and die fantasizing about the beach, anyways enjoy!

Teen Angst Beach Ass Life

Summer x2

Now I’m willing to accept the idea
Of viewing skin cells and eyelashes
From a 100,000 x zoom in would deter some
But it’s a hell of a view for me
And there’s nothing I’d rather see
While laying on this turf
Under the watchful eye of the summer sun
As we lay you ask me if you wanna
Travel the scene for some sugary treats
I’ll be honest love, if I ate one little bit
My stomach would explode from the nerves
Lets just lay here a little longer
Besides there’s only one thing I can think off
That I’d want to have a taste of right now
So let me get a better view of them eyes
And lets just….
Yeah lets just…

Numb arse? Crowed street? Alone? Chances are your outside sixth form

Whhooaaa indie cindie’s taking her time
She was ment to be here at quter to four
I’ve only got 2 years till i’m out of prime
I hope she won’t take to long

Parked on the cold slab known as the sixth form stairs, on a cold wensday afternoon
With the sounds of old Alex moaning how he couldn’t take his brid on tour
Wisling gently through my ears as the viral marketing for indipendant fashion runs out the doors
Buddies and Pal’s walking throught the rabble as they set of home to their cozy bus seats
Beacuse walking in anything under 10 dagree’s is unthinkable as is over 12
With numb as fuck arse i start to debate is my time being put to good use here?

Floods of icons flood the streats bangles and strings in arm
With a Model on one arm and a sidekick perched unwillingly on the other
Droves and droves have come and gone, but don’t you worry i won’t have to wait long
Cos she’ll come i know for sure, just a few more minuites just a few more

Oooop purple hair’s contraversial
The wollen hand knitted jumpers orginal
As orginal as the last 4 people that wore it
There are other shops in town than Topman and Revolv… actually scratch that there aren’t

Half four’s taking the piss, i think we can all agree
Their’s only so many tracks shuffle could throw at me
Yet another Motorhead song? So much for shuffle it would seem
But your redeemed for your next choice of the lone libertine

Floods of icons flood the streats
With a Model on one arm and summant in the other
Droves and droves have come and gone, but don’t you worry i won’t have to wait long
Cos she’ll come i know for sure, just a few more seconds…. COME ON!

If half four’s taking the piss you can imagine me at five
And shuffle is starting to get on my very last ne…
MOTORHEAD AGIAN!? ARE YOU TAKING THE PISS!?
Y’know what? She wasn’t fit anyway, so fuck this