Let’s Make This Annual

thetartanprelude:

As if on cue, the second the sun hits the earth
The barricades collapses and the messages begin
I think it’s time to dip into the life savings
And think about showing my face around your town again

As much as I’ve dearly missed, hearing the little cracks in your voice
There was no way to open communication, at any other time of the year
Education you see, she is a cruel mistress
She yanked the chain around your neck, whenever you came near
With such little time you’d never slink under your fella’s radar

But all that fades from the grey matter
The second I step off that train
With that grin of yours greeting me
Then it becomes clear
That summer has only just started

You start to lose track of the days, after the third night of haze
Waking up on the floor, With your head resting on someone’s door
But the back pains are worth it in the end
When you open your eyes with your head nested in my chest

I would’ve emptied my bank account and paid, just to live in this moment till my grave
With fingers travelling through your hair, I kiss your head as we move to the chairs
I know I couldn’t be the only one during them late Friday nights
Perched on the edge of my bed watching the calendar for this day

How can this feeling ever be considered wrong?
Spread on fields of green in each other’s arms
Come here, I’ll make you forget all about him
If you just take me back four years

My summer can’t begin until I’ve seen you
My year can’t move on until I’ve held you
My winter gets colder when you’re not in it
My life’s a little more dull when you’re not a part of it

I went to try and re-write this one today and thought “Fuck it, kinda nailed it first time” :L

– Lnc0

The Inconvenient Youth [Aggy first draft]

Oh man you hate me don’t you?
I feel the tremors your golden plated artificial organs
You look at me on the street like a living cancer
Toting rags we’ve masqueraded as fashion
Look at him with the shoes on his feet
Look at him with the charisma in his psyche
You feel it’s not enough isn’t it?
All that moola you make from leaching of papa’s gut
That 6 figure cash drop you did fuck all to earn
You deserve that more then I deserve the Tesco’s everyday on my plate

You hate me don’t you?
You hate the way I have to take charity to survive
Hate the way I can still thrive in my suffering
Despise the way I get more from my ability to converse
What you couldn’t get from your 12 inch Gucci branded magic hand
Designed to inspire kinship in the masses
A gap in your balance just to get people to know your alive
I can garner that shit with my plastic in the minuses

God you hate me don’t you?
Hate the way I crack your view of a perfect society
The way I make you afraid for the well being of your future kids
The way I crush the glasses and make you see
The carnage you leave in your wake in your pursuit of a comfy life
That pesky tax bill in the way of another TOWIE fitness DVD
That pesky tax in the way of florescent lights for your car
That pesky tax bill that can save someone from sleeping on the gutters
That pesky tax bill that us ‘frauds’ have to fucking cough up on too
Semi-luxury? Fuck I’d hate me too

Shit man you reeeaalllyy hate me right?
I’m just another number on your balance sheet
Just another raindrop on your conscience right?
Remember when we could just gorge gorge gorge without can fucking guilt?
God I’m such a nuisance I feel it
Every one with paper in their wallets patrolling the streets
I see it in their looks they want me dead
If I was murdered in my sleep that’s one less kid on the dole
If I stopped breathing that’s more tax to go on the MP’s new car
If my heart stopped beating that’s one less vote against the wealthy

Stop the fucking pleasantries you HATE me I know it
You’d love nothing me to see me layed out on the streets
Choking on the air begging for crumbs
Fuck why even wait?
Come round at night and choke me in my bed
Smell that fucking tax cut as you feel the oxygen leave my trachea through your fingers
See the life drop from my eyes hear me choke in my sleep
But fuck it just another bum on the dole right?
Another less student to demonize
One less to antagonize when you learn they don’t align with the blue
One less to blame for your shit grades and crappy job
One less too force into the labour you wouldn’t do for gold, for just peanuts

Fuck your background or your family name
You fucking hate me but we’re the fucking same!
The destroyed youth squirmed under the heel of a boot
How can you not feel sympathy for your like?
When young people aren’t even on young people’s side what the fuck is wrong with everything!?
Who the fuck isn’t an enemy around here anymore?

– Lnc0

Attached [2015 Edit]

Teetering on your chair, toting a mugshot
That only your hitman could reveal in
On the night where the skies opened and the piss flowed
The shine clawing it’s way through the clouds, the night
To place a spotlight on your fretting character
Guiding me through the stairs and corridors

I could see your silhouette drenched in the nerves
Like a magnum melting on the seashore
Each bullet comes down with a thunderous crash
As your trying and kickstart that beat up Herse
A drink knocked out of your hands, a stride to the yard
A stain on the dashboard, a repugnant disgrace

I could sense that frustration from a mile away
There’s no climbing out of a wreckage like that
Misty eyed, stranded and shit out of luck
Hey, if you need a ride why not drive around in mine?
You were promised a cruise tonight and I’ll happily provide
I’ll take you round those curves she never could

How am I?
Nevermind
It’s never been on my mind
Pay no mind about mine

So I towed you back onto the freeway
50 miles down the boarder, there’s no going back now
I’ve dreamed of this feeling travelling up my skin
Ever since I walked through that door tonight

If only you could’ve felt my lips burn
Whenever yours came into my mind
It reduces years of cognitive thinking
Into a slave of mindless impulses

But even with this beating livewire
I know theres not much a girl like me do
But I know there’s one thing I can do
Something only a woman could do

So sit back
Enjoy the ride
Turn off your mind, I’ll be kind
I’m fine, as long as your mine

– Lnc0

A rewrite of this oldie

Anti The Anti Anti

I’m so anti, anti movement, anti perspiration, anti anything
Anti leaving, anti sleeping, anti anything, stay in anti
Don’t move, don’t sing, don’t come alive
The anti’s of that, they will come out in force
That way you drink your coffee in the morning aggravates me
That anti milk in your anti spoon, just cast it away
Consider the anti’s when you wave thorough life
The anti’s up the ante when you anti their calls
You dare skirt 5 meters near that feather with that skin
Don’t claim anti on my words, I’m not anti that skin
I just can’t anti my skin, and I’m totally anti that
You can’t anti that, you’ll become the anti anti!
I’m anti even trying to compete with that logic
I wouldn’t want them dirty anti’s to my name
Clogging up the gaps in my jacket
I’m anti jacket, I’m anti life, I’m anti the ending of all suffering
Did I become that, did I anti the process of being anti?
Was I just born anti? Anti juices dripping of my skull?
Destined by my skin colour to become the anti?
Can’t I anti that anti? Without become the anti anti?
I’d do anything to stay away from the anti anits, I’m anti that
I’m the anti anti anti, but I’m just so tired
I’m tired of all forms of anti, I can’t handle the antis
I just want some pro’s so the day isn’t so anti anymore
If your anti this, then your anti that!
Your anti’s are clogging up my kitchen floor!
So just call me the anti anti anti anti
I’m anti any of this noise

– Lnc0

Hateful Sonatta

You are the honey in my cardiac arrest
You are the Taffy in my asphyxiation
You are the sugar in my hypothermia
You are the chocolate in my haemorrhaging
Each drop that lands on my fingers
Sends me each shuffle closer to expiration
Each fragment you rip of me
Gathers dust on a pile in the basement
You are the maggots in my Granny Smith
You are the mildew in my bathroom suite
You are the cancer in my major graduate
You are the salmonella in my bake sale
Each trace of poison I carry in me
Get’s charitably shared throughout my community
Each glimmer of light I spy inside you
Turns into a siren light by the cliff-side
Yet each chance I get to side step you
I choose to play ignorant
What else is there to do on a Sunday afternoon
After staring bug eye’d at the window, ogling buffoons

– Lnc0

Coast Crush

Cat’s eyes, a bow, emerald earnings and a rabbit tooth necklace
A black dice bracelet, a Minnie Mouse pin,
A goats skull tattoo, and a pitch black dose of Manic Panic
Just some of the tools you use to fish-hook my attention in the cafeteria
As the light ricochets from your jade skull ring
And preforms a calypso radiance, through the rabble and catches my eyes

2 set’s, a drama class and a lack of knowledge of Manson’s discography
The only things that separated us from beyond the nod in the hallway
The wit of the tongue spies a cobblestone path through mutual friends
And drunkenly made brothers, that was laid out before me
But if I ever got to your door how could I captivate you?
A lexicon of lullabies and artistry vs. a note left on the fridge

But I can’t keep my mind out of the picture show
A 24 hour double feature of maybe’s and possibles
Of spending 3.50 on a return to the coast
Cross-legged in your room in our Sunday Best
Sing-songing along to Nicole Dollganger
Under the porcelain surveillance of your doll collection
And your lemon and lime bearing predecessor
Gulping down the sour taste of the looming Pythagoras homework

You could send that weary neck off to lunch for a while
Put my shoulder blades to the test outside the tourist trap
Comparing toy capsule trinkets and penguin bar one liners
Turning a blind eye and letting the weekend roll away
Maybe I could ignite the Stella bottle and make you a fireworks show
Ignoring the niggling boundaries of reality
Maybe we could take the next coach out of town
Ignoring the fact this is all still a day dream
I never left the screening, still stuck to the chewing gum in my seat
No amount of accidental bumps between lessons can turn this into a documentary

A documentary that would end with a stroll from the Cod-boy And Son’s
After spending my mum’s bus money on rounds of Soul Blade
And onslaught of red hue revealing the lizard contacts in your eyes
As we pick up the pace, your way to outrun the curfew
Spend the rest of the night sing-a-longing to Nicole Dollganger
“Yeah my baby has a baby, but it’s not me”

A peanut butter sandwich and Yazoo milkshake later I get out my seat
Slogg my arse empty handed to get grilled in double science
We pass glances at the exit, as you head to double drama
Swallow another day where we stay as we are: Strangers

– Lnc0

Real Rage [Version 1 – Ongoing]

Now that I have your attention ladies and gentleman
Ooohhh…. Where do I even begin?
With all the mountainous amount of ways
That when I see you out and about with that cheeky boy grin
You make the bile rise up to my gullet
As you wink at the guys and give them a high-five
And you leave the infected flakes on your lips with the girls
It makes me question the point of staying alive
You wear your Topman 2 for 10 tailor suit like an Armani
And the musk of new Lynx decaying pheasant acting as your aura
Your hair’s slicked backed, the cherry on top of shredding your humanity
Thought I feel it’s missing one thing, a healthy dose of inflicted gore… -a
When your up in the bar roaring and howling
About that girl you ‘had’ in the bushes to your mates
Taking each act of humiliation like a trophy on your wall
As your bros’ grip put cracks in their drinks as they hold back the hate
Because of course none of it happened did it?
So I would start on about how you rape innocent girls
But that would imply that when they set there eyes on you
They don’t take the first taxi home and fucking hurl
Two Sambuca’s and Setlla’s hence since
Your breath starts to smell like Jack Daniel’s piss
You ask a pair of ladies if they are of celestial decent
As they start to head towards the door since I think they got the gist
You just can’t take “Fuck off you Republic dwelling troll” as an answer
You treat a grope of the arse like a personality quirk
I imagine she wants a skin graft operation after that
So that the feeling of your sweaty hairy palms doesn’t lurk
How could they not fall for you? Fall under your spell?
When you scream at them, calling them a skank
There must be god, if atleast you always walk home alone
Your night ends with tears, Vaseline, Eastenders and disappointingly short wank
I hope one day a young woman’s lad catches you in the act
And he downs you with just one nads-aiming punt
And as he leans down, he identified you for what you are
A cunt

– Lnc0

Christmas Shopping [W.I.P Ver.1]

I turn my head to the tidal waves in the ceiling
I play a game of Dig Dug with the pipes
With sprites that just aren’t there in the mortal plane
Sunglasses toting tennis balls armed with 45’s
Firing lemons at the purple ball clan
I think it says something about your psyche
If you lose in you’re fictional arcade game
That’s pre-determined in your own head
Is it a sign of my own lack of confidence
To carry out the convictions in my life
Do I just assume I will fail in any task I take on?
Or is it a statement that try as I might
I cannot overcome the will of the masses?
And actually… Why have I put myself in a situation
Where I would even think about this tat?

Picture if you DARE a decaying charity shop
Wrestling for dominance in between the temptress
Of the stench of fresh ginger bread coming out the over
And the harmony of the latest electronic fairytales
Forced to be ensnared as a spectator
Bound to a cm ledge by the window
That’s like a blade digging right into the snug of my erase cheek
It’s the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive in this limbo
As I watch my betrothed repeat another contradiction

“I thought you said you wanted plaid clothes?”
“Yeah but this particular number has a thicker collar
Which of course recontextualizes the entire thing
Changing it’s status in the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view”

I wish someone would recontextualize me
Changing my status from the flow of modern fashion
From something that obeys the current trends
To something you could infer satires and glorifies them
From an outsiders point of view
And by that I mean punch me in the face, slit my throat,
And burn the corpse via a holy ritual
So that even my ghost doesn’t have to endure this shopping spree any more

“We have many factors to consider young patron
If I were to make a transaction of funds
For which context sensitive scenarios
It would be appropriate to utilize the piece I have in front of me
But considering the possibility that next time at Jan’s
There could be a recreation of the seven plagues of Moses
Right in the middle of shropshire! COULD HAPPEN!
Then if that where to occur it would blend with the colour of the shoes
Unlike if I wore the same ones in Blue that I have at home”

I would moan, but I can’t say I was any better
Switching back and forth in the record store
Between the Record Store day 2012 exclusive single
With the version of the obscure B-side that came with Frosties boxes
That’s 12.4 seconds longer with a slightly different flute
Or the other super rare vinyl with the outtakes
Of hit 2013 radio single, which is just the singer humming the baseline
Clearly both treasures would come into my possession
But with a agonizing week long wait in between
A 40 minute session of deciding was very warranted
It’d of been 45 but I do have them both on mp3 so it’s fine
…I feel it was just, why did my companion look so annoyed?

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

0 – The Fool (Draft 2)

Like a cup of a half filled luke-warm tea
Left to freeze, at the mercy of a breeze in a picture perfect winters setting
I am slowly losing the properties linked to my overall purpose
But it’s of no fault of a good for nothing tenant
Who’s jolted the mug from it’s coaster in the living room
And relocated behind the curtains of the study
But a day dreaming priss, too meek to shift his glacier stained feet
Left to drink the pisswater that is his cooled down tea

It’s an easy routine to play out on long weekdays
It’s the upbringing, the unemployment, It’s the undesirables
It’s the crippling depression holding the door shut
Metaphorically, theoretically, possibly, Definitely!
As you chuck another Chicago Town box across the room
But parentheticaly, you know none of that turned on the telly
And made you watch that Man Vs Food marathon
But oh, it was such an easy routine to fall back on
A routine well due for another run around
And after the tax on your nerves the week has sprung on you!

Your groans don’t bounce off much in an empty room
Nothing that could recontextualized the vibrations you sent out
Mush up what you insinuated, and lather up what they inferred
And send it back your way on the silver spoon express
Making sure to seal away the output of groans
Catching all the little things you don’t wanna hear on the bib
Until you’re full and numb and empty of any debilitation
The worst way to debilitate yourself in the first place

Poor wounded dippy soldier
There’s no need to cover the spoon marks on your skull
Poor-or, idioms, sympathetic, congratulated!
A lovely assortment of flavours and spices
To smear around your perception
Dulling and sweetening the few senses left functioning
To make your ingrained into the leather a fantastic experience
Watch the hours fly away like dance recitals and funerals
Turning even the slow deterioration of your lobs
Such as the Wright Show into something vaguely enjoyable

It’s a comfortable thing to rest on, puffy fluffly reassurance
It IS a comfortable thing, yes! Well done
But the floorboards are far more triumphant
I’m sick of the soft creamy taste of easy living
I miss the salt and the spit running from my face
As I bulldoze my heel into the stage at the cafe
Screeching to rise above the idle chatter,
They should’ve all enacting basic human interactions for you
The shrugs, disinterested looks, the bloodbath for relevancy
I mean the rudeness; THE GALL!
Inhaling and exhaling as a means to communicate aloud!
The kind of words I rely to you people now

Don’t let the nostalgic dreams of angry teens suede you
The ways I had to remind myself, I was alive where abhorrent
The tightening of the chocker, the fists behind your door
A reminder you could fuck up someone’s day
The dignified exits, parallel to the pining returns
A reminder you where something to objectify
Fuck that, I’m not a tool in anyone’s narrative
I’m something your damn near mortified to see lost
I’ll take that notion of shining like the brightest star
And melt all your faces off with all 27 million degrees of it

Now everything is changing
No footholding, No excuses, No handholding
No spare tenner for Pizza Hut
Just 65,825 ways to go about the plains before me
With an extra 154,529 methods of tripping it up
On the concrete, not like the turf from before
I guess I should face it all with a smirk
And get on with it

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

0 – The Fool (W.I.P) [Pre-Domestication]

Like a cup of a half filled luke-warm tea
Left to freeze, at the mercy of a breeze in a picture perfect winters setting
I am slowly losing the properties linked to my overall purpose
But it’s of no fault of a good for nothing tenant
Who’s jolted the mug from it’s coaster in the living room
And relocated behind the curtains of the study
But a day dreaming priss, to meek to shift his glacier stained feet
Left to drink the pisswater that is his cooled down tea

It’s an easy routine to play out on long weekdays
It’s the upbringing, the unemployment
It’s the crippling depression holding the door shut
Metaphorically, theoretically, possibly
As you chuck another Chicago Town box across the room
But parentheticaly, you know none of that turned on the telly
And made you watch that Man Vs Food marathon
But oh, it was such an easy routine to fall back on

It’s a comfortable thing to rest on, puffy fluffly reassurance
But the floorboards are far more triumphant
I’m sick of the soft creamy taste of easy living
I miss the salt and the spit running from my face
As I bulldoze my heel into the stage at the cafe
Screeching to rise above the idle chatter,
The shrugs, disinterested looks, the bloodbath for relevancy
The kind of words I rely to you people now

Don’t let the nostalgic dreams of angry teens suede you
The ways I had to remind myself, I was alive where abhorrent
The tightening of the chocker, the fists behind your door
A reminder you could fuck up someone’s day
The dignified exits, parallel to the pining returns
A reminder you where something to objectify
Fuck that, I’m not a tool in anyone’s narrative
I’m something you’re damn near mortified to see lost
I’ll take that notion of shining like the brightest star
And melt all your faces off with all 27 million degrees of it

– Lnc0