1. |
19 Years Old
02:03
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With my head in my hands in the back of the class,
And a dozen dreams rushing through my head,
I'm like Arthur Rimbaud, I'll never grow old,
I'd rather die, I'd rather die, I'd rather die.
Read all these pages, write your opinions on the back,
Did you catch all the Christ references in there Jack?
The gravediggers chat about Hamlet getting fat,
but I'm 19 years old and I don't fucking care.
Translate vocabulary, then define.
Conjugate the verbs, boy, then decline,
foreign language forces you to behave more refined,
But I'm 19 years old and I don't fucking care.
God damn my education,
I'll bring my own books to school.
Enforced institutions always seem so cruel.
I'm like Charles Baudelaire, I never get scared.
Le fleur du mal, menage a trois, merci beaucoup.
The chorus said Achilles sat on his sword
While Abraham and Everyman built an arch for their lord.
They said, "You shouldn't write two songs with the same three chords",
But I'm 19 years old and I don't fucking care.
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2. |
Blues for Mollie
02:24
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I'm a rooster crowing when the sun goes down.
You're a rose that grows down into the ground.
You were too talkative when I was too quiet,
And we were both backwards, but that's why I liked it.
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3. |
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I've got these hung up, strung out, self-conscious, head down, fired up, burned out, smoke blowing coke snout, these 'nothing to sing about that won't come out wrong or true', Richmond City Hangover Blues.
I've got these low-down, south-bound, concrete all around, dehydrated, frustrated, been sleeping on the ground, these under fed, overrated, outdated, brand new used pair of shoes, Richmond City Hangover Blues.
I've got these 'come and get me', drunk and dizzy, always hungry, never busy, nearly busted, just missed me, don't trust me, just kiss me once before the urge hits me to move, Richmond City Hangover Blues.
I've got these left-handed, these color blind, these dishwashing, these deep fried, these 'Good Time Suicide' written on the gun I'm gonna use, Richmond City Hangover Blues.
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4. |
Just Me
02:27
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Am I too late?
Am I too soon?
I look sick but I feel immune.
Am I allowed in here or are you gonna bust me?
I can't quite get my thoughts in tune.
I'm like a man in a mirrored room.
Is it crowded in here, or is it just me?
I wanna watch the stars in the afternoon,
I wanna buy you the world,
I wanna steal you the moon.
I'm not asking you to bow down,
I'm asking you to trust me.
Please trust me.
Was I too harsh?
Did I jump right in?
Was my hair too long?
Were my legs too thin?
You got that look in your eye like you're gonna leave me.
I've got question marks growing beneath my chin,
I've got hair like whiskey and eyes like gin,
I don't know why my mirror even receives me.
Heavy dark.
Bare skin.
Drunk off music and high off sin.
I'm not asking you to lie,
I'm asking you to believe me.
Please believe me.
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