An Excuse Not To Try

As I take another sip of the local suds
While you sit me down at the back
And confess to me your packing some extra baggage
A Diagnosable mindset with a name you can’t pronounce
As you look at me with doom and gloom in your eyes

I can’t comprehend how I’m going to live the rest of my life
With this shadow looming over me at every corner
It won’t get better, it won’t go away, it can’t be cured
You can’t threaten to leave it’s milk out of the fridge till it moves out
My life is ruined with this monkey stuck to my back

But just Imagine if Mr. Organised succumbed to the same mindset
Threw that job application for Dreamworks into the shredder
And handed in his resignation from the local film college
Because he knew he had to live with himself forever
He’d stay awake at night, toss and turning as if he was in a grave
Because he knew somewhere in West Yorkshire
Some plebeian decided to order their The Who CD collection
By year of release but made a calculated error
They put “The Ultimate Collection” before “The Very Best Of The Who”
So what’s the point in dreaming or making something of yourself
Because he’ll always have that image of that crime scene of a shelf

Imagine if Mr. Acne succumbed to the same mindset
Smashed that CD-r with his demo tape on it
And broke the band up before their début charity gig
Cracked the fret of his guitar in two
And slowly unlearned all the songs he’s written
Because he knew he had to live with himself forever
He’d lock himself up and stare vacantly at the walls
Because he knows after everytime he smeared that cream on his face
The new prescription medicine that guarantees clear skin
It’ll just grow back during that brief period
Of running out of cream and going to the pharmacy
A grave 10 minutes of walking down to the local Boots
Not to mention them whole entire SECONDS
Of applying the stuff two the 4 spots that remain after a shower
So what’s the point in dreaming or making something of yourself
Because he’ll always have to check his face every now and then

Imagine if Mrs. Quavers succumbed to the same mindset
Burned up the 300 pages of her novel
Stopped going to her book club every month
Threw out all her favourite books into the ravine
Fed all her magazines to the dog
Got rid of every thing in the house that has words in it
Smoked everything in the house that has a story to it
Because she knew she had to live with herself forever
She’d stay home from work and pace through the halls
Because she knows no matter how she spends her time
Every 4 hours she’ll crave for another packet
She’ll have to endure the pain of filling out the stock report
While tasting the disappointing husk of saliva
Everytime she walks into the cafe at lunch break
With another packet instead of a Freddo bar
She’s never felt so ashamed in her life
And she’ll have to trudge back home in the rain
Because now she’s 40p short of getting a single home
So what’s the point in dreaming or making something of yourself
Because she’ll always be thinking of the next packet before lunch

You can throw extreme’s at me all you like
Slather them all in the sauce of your sarcy tone
But it doesn’t change the hand I’m stuck with
Your Skitzofinniky, I’m Boretistic, and Mrs. Johnson has a Peg Leg
Those extra percussions are no doubt an annoyance
And the way our labels are like Abra-Kadabra
They can turn you into a three legged puppy in peoples eyes
If life can stub a toe, our’s can break their legs

But when has that ever been an excuse not to try?

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

First Impressions

The nostalgia gets knocked out of me,
when you walk into the room.
Has it really been two years since
I wanted you too much for too long?
The memories of you wrapping me
around your finger and then cutting it off
come back to me. You never replaced
the affection I gave away so freely
and it sucked me dry at the age of 15.
I try to hide the bitterness behind my eyes,
after all I’m sure being away at university
has honed your repartee and wit.
My only problem is, I see now,
you’re just really not that fit.

It took me a minute to place you.
You were always clouded in a haze
of puppy love and high expectations.
The hedonism of higher education
has dulled my sense of the past;
everything in this town feels different
somehow. Time has softened the edges
of our interactions and space puts you
in a whole new light. You’ve filled out,
filled in the requirements and I can fill
your time with mine. Maybe I should give
you my phone number because,
oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

Your jaw has dulled over time,
rugged rocks worn down.

Your cheeks are flushed,
highlighting those high bones.

Your nose has bumps and blemishes,
that I never noticed before.

Your hair makes my hand want
to dive in and curl you round my little finger.

Did your university days fill you out?
Or was I imagining an Adonis in your shoes?

Did you have that femme fatale physique
before, or is it a new addition?

You used to be my ideal model, the epitome of
teenage adoration, but the cracks are starting to show.

You used to be unrequited in my mind, I was your
half-boyfriend and you weren’t half-bad. But now?

I shift my gaze away from you,
I look eagerly at this woman in front of me
tear the paper in my hands,
try and gather dutch courage,
not wanting the awkward conversation.
desperately wanting to ask you out.
There was a time when I would beg for a scrap of your affection,
I made you work so hard for this moment,
my rose tinted contact lenses stuck in my eyes.
I owe you so much and plus there’s a bonus for me,
But now, you’re just really not that fit.
because, oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

As performed by Domestic.

– Francesniff

The Kids Of The 60’s And 70’s Are Useless‏

We’ve been told we’re the lost generation
An age that’s thrown our lives to the cycle of sleaze
But we’re really the generation that’s just trying to cope
Picking up the trash left behind by the settlers of ‘67
Coming home to an empty home again and again
Feeding of the scraps and sparing our own rods

Tell your mumma to mind her own business
Tell your pappy he doesn’t have to worry
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s never grew up
And it’s up to us to clean up after them

The kids of the 80’s and 90’s are in reality so much more
We’ve learnt from our neighbours to swat away the handicaps
Of a disappearing drunken father, you only offered you another fag
Of a malfunctioning mother who traded your lunch money for another hit
And for those parents who decided to stick around
We’ve learnt to only expect, to be told the things we never did
To be told we can’t do things, To treat NVQ’s like pictures on the fridge
To accept we’re punching bags for their own poor life choices

We’ve adapted to take compliments from the mirror
To treat our homes no less of a warzone then the urban jungle outside of it
To drown out that nagging in our ear that tries to reinforce
That just because they never saw you staving of suicide
While staring at another application on Reed.com
That it never happened, and that your useless

We’ve learnt to brush it off our shoulders
Because when the time comes, after hours and decades of labour
Of honing your acrylic blade, and sharpening your tongue
And you see the kids of the 60’s and 70’s
Chewing on their Beastie Boys Vinyl and while sucking their thumbs
Looking confused without a son or daughter to take their anger out on
And asking what they could’ve possibly of done wrong to have been left behind
You’ll know you came all the way up here from tattered clothes
And feeding of the scraps of government donated rations
And you’ll know you did it all on your own

Tell your pappy to mind his own business
Tell your mumma you got it all under control
Tell them you still believe they love you
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s couldn’t even keep a cat alive
Let alone try and cushion the blow from the sober fact
That the kids of the 80’s and 90’s have no future to look forward too

– Lnc0

Mutual Whatever

Kisses seal my letter of appreciation,
the timeless touch of blushing pilgrims,
passed down through the ages. Four full kisses you leant me,
after months of me trying to steal them.
I’ll try and hold onto this day
for as long as your kisses allow me to.

I’m sorry but the kiss jumped out of me,
trying to find a brief connection or a foothold for these feelings;
it wasn’t an admittance but a substitution.
My loneliness was an orbital pull and you were unlucky in your proximity.
Don’t get me wrong, the gloss on your lips is honey, not vinegar,
but I’m not a fly.

Does a kiss mean nothing at all to you?
With her they were exchanges of dying embers,
with you, like trying to ignite wet, weeping wood.
Typical of you to provide lackluster ignition,
and then blame the fuel.
Atypical of you to get so hung up on what is just
the meeting of flesh upon flesh and tongue upon cheek.

Goosebumps stood raised on my arm,
ready to tell what you were too blind to see;
my flesh was fuelled by the fantasies of what we could be.
Desperate indulgences feel real
when we’re only speaking with our lips.

Can’t you just give my kisses back to me?
Fill those blank spaces in your memory,
cover my indiscretions with shared moments of a platonic nature.
I’m not ready for one action to define our relationship, my dear,
don’t throw us away on a kiss

As preformed by Domestic

– Francesniff

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

Distrust

“Your not as good looking as what I’d usually go for
But tonight’s your lucky night girl”

And with that civilization has come to it’s knees
As I was foolishly led to the lions den
With promises of scrapbook fillings
And maybe a net profit of companionship
Maybe there was a chance
Before the machines had gotten their eyes on me

“Hey bae I’m only messing around
There’s no need to be so serious
No one ever went to jail for touching a thigh right?
So just tell us your name?”

A gaze like a laser sight
A Domineering mechanical contraption
Made to keep girls like me under surveillance
Every breach of contact like a claw severing the flesh
I can hear the tape recording repeating in your mind
“She’s so beautiful, so succulent, so suggestible
She can’t exit until I’ve had my feast
She can’t exist if not for this moment”

“Come on darling you can’t leave yet
Drink that Bacardi Breezer I got ya’
Who ever says no to a dance?
Just let go have some fun”

Oh god they’ve made a statement with the architecture
All the lights, the screens, the luminescent
It’s insight to what’s to come, a wasteland of flicking neon
To shine the light of what’s left of our humanity
Daddy’s gotta have his meal tonight
He can’t stop hunting until a catch is between his teeth
We can debate paranoia and delusion till the day break
But the danger is real “Someone get me the fuck out of here!”

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Just A Man

They knew you as broke-ass Baxter, from the shadows of the estate
The classic story of a candy wrapper tainting a cherry blossom garden
With your beat-up leathers and monochromed dyed trainers
And with one rouge blonde curl that no force was able to keep down
The way you teeter your cigarette left and right when the gears turn
And the little cracks in your laugh when something was especially hysterical
I always noticed them all, from the corner of the snooker hall
So when your eyes wondered trying to track down an ignition for your fag
I jumped at the chance, just for an excuse to give you my name
I can’t get enough of the way you sway in the queue
Who knows what ideas your plotting in that little mind of yours
Miles and miles away before the line starts to move
And maybe, you can take me their one day?

I snuck out by the bathroom window, on a waxing crescent moon
I met you outside the snooker club but there wasn’t much to do
So you led me through the wire traps and we end up at the coast
I perch on seaside debris, clutching the last tin you gave to me
And you begin tell tales of old sweethearts and rebellious youth
The content may of felt short, but god it’s just you just tell it so well
I push the fat of my cheeks up and make sure every inch of you is in my gaze
I couldn’t give a fuck about what your chatting, it’s just the way you tell it hon’
And maybe, I wanna listen to you everyday

My dear all your fallacies are false, can’t you see I’m just a man?
But can’t you see, your so much more then a man to me?
Well lets see if you share that opinion later on still
When you peer at me through the cracks of the door
And you catch me in the midst of an ‘um’ or an ‘err’
It doesn’t matter how much you take my fables
And stitch together An-Frankenstein’s Garfield
It’s all just a character to get excited about
Another one to exaggerate about in prose on lonely nights

How much of me do you wanna see?
I wanna see straight through you
And everything that makes you
Are you prepared to wince and sigh?
Are you prepared to not be amazed by something that makes me?
But you got me to come this far
I want to discover everything you could be
I just hope you feel the same thing for me

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

Only The Obsolete Clutch

The news cut through the deepest part of me
Nights and nights spend hand in hand amidst the clean slate
Putting together our little plans and steps to glory
Reduced to plastic knifes struck in the dragons knees, in one sentence
Oh baby I couldn’t imagine spending my time without you
Buying bread knowing I’m not making you toast just seems pointless
While you rise to the next league in human evolution in another land
Looking at me in my second hand leather jacket fiddling with the pennies
Night after night you’ll forget our curbside midsummer debates
Putting the world to rights, and etching my heart in blood on the concrete
By comparison my sonnets will be reduced to a Daily Star article
My kisses will feel sliver, their greetings will feel like gold
I guess I’ll lay the final right now, may our love not end in a bang
But a whimper of the echo’s of unfulfilled promises and sweet nothings

If you feel you cannot merit your worth to me
In the midst of piles of golden spoils
Smearing my crown with the blood under my fingernails
As I stroke it from atop a platinum ladder
The that one’s all on you my dear
Kisses are timeless and sonnets scar the hippocampus
If your insecurity places a brace on your tongue
And your pride forces sorrow when you should feel joy
Then let me shed your remnants from my skin
As I take off to claims elements unknown as my own

To be preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

If Kisses Mattered

My friend, we may of been allies for passing upon passing of the sun
But you shouldn’t dare shoot me a look like that in front of the cheese scones
While I unveil another tale of a romantic exploit crashing into the bushes
The way you tell me to stop pushing for 200mph on the first lap
It takes me back to an era long lost where kisses weren’t just a method
To escalate to sensual liberation but actually meant a damn all on their own

So I decide to try and spread it like the last of the butter
That’s trying to cater to a breakfast meant for 4
It may last for longer but it don’t taste nearly as sweet anymore
And that’s not even accounting the distortion in the mirrors image
The plates of my skin start to crack from my fingers like bark
Little quirks in my speech became foghorns, coughs became gunshots
When you started at me from the edge of your bed, and turned away
A ravine of sludge leaking from openings must’ve been all you could see
It’s only way my mind could make sense of things
As each passing day went us by, that we went untouched

And now I’m left here like a chorus with no subtext
I just want you to open my pores and give me context
I could be risking another wreckage for sure
But to risk censoring myself is a fate far worse
I want to lock our psyches by the pinky fingers
So while our keisters share a plot of cobble stone
Outside of a treasure map destination
I bleat a plea in a soft frequency into your ears

“Oh lady it’s just lately I’ve been feelin’ real ugly
So hook me by the folds of my skin and embrace me”

Objectify Me

You put on a cabaret to convince yourself
and your allies that you don’t come for the hunger
And that your heart was always true
you didn’t want to let the boat float away into the ocean
It’s just life tends to get in the way of your 7 day clear schedule
Their was nothing you could do!
Now your belly is full you send me on my way
And put your fingers in your ears and scream

I was never a human to you was I?
The idea of personality and emotion never once came to you
What state I’m left in is of no fucking concern
You strip me in your mind of all human qualities
I’m not a man, I’m not a human I’m just a thing
A thing for you to use and throw away in the trash
I have no name, no face, no life,
I’m just a fucking dick tonight and everything else is useless
My heart carries no love, I’m just your dick,
My mind carries no idea, I’m just your dick
Just your big fucking dick, just your dick,
just your dick, your fucking dick, just a dick

Affection is just a tired concept made by weak individuals
To lead stray lambs to sensual liberation
A dick has no need for affection right?
Companionship is for the weak minded
Who can’t survive without a human crutch isn’t that right?
A dick has no need for a companion
Love is for delusion you trip over the lives of other people
Because they can’t sustain their own
A dick has no need for love right?
As long as you get yours who fucking cares right?
I’m nothing, I’m no one, I’m just your thing

JUSTADICKAFUCKINGDICKJUSTABIGDICKIMNOTHINGBUTADICKJUSTADICKNOHOPENOFUTUREJUSTYOURFUCKINGDICKNOFEELINGSNOLIFEJUSTYOURFUCKINGDICKBIGDICKFUCKINGDICKDICKDICKCDIKDKCICIKICJJIOEHC423G4Y34553YH34YG4UJ80G9JB MN