Tag: schoolyard

Embrace The Reputation

Uggghh just look at him crawl through the door now
Drenched and draped in the usual suspects
A stringy fabrication of a mod icon, and dyed out jeans
With copper shreds of evidence of musical fandom
With his hired goons and a unsuspecting victim
What on earth was any of us thinking 
Associating with a devil with such a bad reputation

Isn’t a strange phenomenon 
When the wind blows near the gaggle of salty girls
Their cries that’re being carried in the air
Sound a lot like comic book fantasies and soap opera scripts?
I couldn’t even get into a persona and act out any of this shit
Summer milkshake serenades in the park
Or winter breakfast tea sessions on my settee 
A strange thing to turn into a sex addicts soliloquy 

Just gotta grin and bear it and embrace the reputation
Just embrace the reputation
Just live the reputation
Just love the reputation

Just gotta crash straight into the dive
Scantily clad in a laddy supernova persona
Wipe the dirty glares from my cheek
Dance to the soundtrack of the little comments
Yeah I’m a Casanova and I love it
Yeah I’m an asshole and I cherish it
Whatever helps you swallow that bitter little dose
Washed down with a stolen 2 for 1 savers brand cider

Just embrace the reputation
Just BE the reputation

Just gotta turn this parole into a riot
I’ll shoot your clan a look and you’ll like it
Yeah I’ll tell you fuck off and you’ll love it
Articles and articles of bullets for you to play with
During your Facebook water cooler moment
Amass tomes upon tomes of poetry
Filling in the blanks of my non-existence crimes
Hey if it gives you joy, I’ll be happy to indulge you
And embrace the reputation

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Combat

Pestilence incarnate cries at her loudest
Captivating the attention of the lucky young males
In droves they come throwing away their free wills for a taste

‘Droves’ being a stretch at best

And of course she’s had the worst pampering of life
Her paper thin troubles will net you a eternity of goose chasing
The Chupacabra you can never catch, the Bigfoot you can never prove was even there

If not a hearbreak in similes
What else is she ‘sposed to post for her followers?

She slams onto to the catwalk
Avert your eyes, cameras, guns, blades away from it
Even wounds feeds it’s insatiable hunger
After all a target needs to be aimed at

But a funny thing happened one morn
A million followers started to thin, picked apart one by one
The icon of a generation started to clear into a symbol of self indulgence

Who could’ve been so cruel?

It was me who picked the flowers in your garden
The one who gave man his tounge and made the blind see again
It’s not hard to bring the starstrucked back to the land of independant thought

The method is private i’m afraid

And to add salt to the wound
I did it with my hands tied behind my back
I hope you think of me when you chronicle your demise to the masses

‘The defective who took down perfection herself’