1. |
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i'm in love with my television
i'm in love with alcohol
i love my terrible coping methods
because i hate myself most of all
i'm in love with radicalism
because i have too much empathy
a mostly empty list of life goals
and a rootless ideaology
turn my insides to slimy ashes
make a better attempt at my neck
i have no more chipped teeth left to offer
a superficial self respect
and in the steady shaking of my clammy hands
i'll try to pass on how i love you
in the solitary preparation
of when they decide that it just won't do
i'm really trying, my tongue blending recycled lines
a millennia compared to a decade
i wanna force the happiness i've seen
i wanna love god in a gay way
it's less obsessive need, more artful cynicism
like the pious playwrights before me
hasty anxious thoughts that you could learn to love
the kind that make you love someone like me
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2. |
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from romanticizing the drugs
to all the sleep i'm gonna lose
i'm too exhausted to do anything
but just lay and look at you
a stupid four bar-chord progression
is enough to open scars
back to a time when nihilsm
meant more than just hating where you are
but in the space between your nose and neck
i'll win you over just to forget
that i'm everything short of effort
and so far gone beyond comprehension
and in the words of old dead poets
and in the style of 4 over 4
i'll do my best to salvage misunderstandings
between my hanging jaw and yours
i'm clocking out early
i'm singing songs that mean nothing
i'm so creative, i'm so awake
i'm so afraid that i'm barely breathing
i'm broken windows
i'm hurtful words muttered under breath
i am burning tongues, i am burning eyes
i am my sickness at fucking best
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3. |
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in my dreams i taste the sawdust
hear the snickering from the shelves
i smell the sulfur, dust, the nails and the rust
and my teeth fall out by themselves
my skin is turning yellow and green
almost a painting on my bones
almost fictitious and strange, and all that remains
is the blood dripping from my nose
but
where do i go once the songs over?
and who will call when you're not around?
where did my head go once you found me?
what're the right chords to drown me out?
and in the letter clipped to my skin
i wrote you love letters in vain
a simple trainwreck of a haiku
once the nail drives through my brain
and i'm nothing if not dramatic
in my black-tie-affair eye roll
my bones have made the full commitment
to the maggots drilling holes
but
what will you sing once the songs over?
please try to live when i'm not around
my throat is aching from the sorry's
there's no right chords to drown me out
this is an effortless epiphany
and a manifest destiny
a fucking masterpiece in offering
and all the salt that makes up the sea
but your body won't let you drown
no matter how hard you try
and i've been thinking to myself
"what a bullshit waste of time"
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4. |
ACAB For Cutie
01:03
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when you play on their fears
you can control a people
and audience public
playing the role of sheep will
flock to your promises of a brand new future
without people who don't look like them
and through your borders
we teach our kids anger, fear, and hate
and your capitalistic regime tells them
to never go against the grain
your racism speaks volumes
to these people so afraid
that they'll do anything to protect these bloody states
even if it means dehumanize a race
even if it means move a people out of place
even if it means attack them on their land,
kill every moving thing
these men, women and children who haven't eaten anything in weeks
firebomb their homes and churches
just to give you peace of mind
we're learning history over and over again
just to leave lessons behind
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5. |
The Wonder Beers
04:22
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i'm enthralled by books and writing
the rain, the windows, and yellow flowers
and i'm just overjoyed with your presence
i could listen to you talk for fucking hours
and i'm my father's second daughter
born in the wrong skin and clothes
i was over-prepared and misunderstood
the green light effect in sick reprose
there's an irony in these conditions
the constant glare of a thousand eyes
the breaking down and the rebuilding
the esteemed rebuking mania derives
there's something moving in the windows
there's always something or someone moving in the windows
there's something moving in the trees outside
but i'm just so lonely when i'm all alone
captivating open letters
a distant ringing in my ears
we like the same songs and the same movies
a sweet prerequisite to my fears
jealous craft work born from thinking
too fucking much, i can't see straight
prolonged silences are my favorite
it's the need to be that i fucking hate
and in the end it's simple two steps
from the time you wake up to the time you die
endless lists of bare necessities
coping mechanisms to comodify
there's something moving in the windows
there's always something or someone moving in the windows
there's something moving in the trees outside
but i'm just so lonely when i'm all alone
there's something leaking from my eyeballs
a ghastly black and feverish white
there's nothing i could say to keep you
the thing that keeps me up at night
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6. |
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demanding citizenship to a land you fucking stole
militarized police commit massacres on patrol
your country's a fucking prison
built on the backs of kidnapped slaves
just a number to be worked to death and
shuffled into a mass grave
celebrate war criminals in your films and tv
glorify your oppressor and you'll never truly be free
through their system of legal loopholes
maintain legal slavery
a champion to the white-man
upholding american prosperity
fleeing from domestic problems
caused by a foreign war machine
just shoo them away as you create more nightmares
and the horrors that they've seen
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7. |
Worried
02:04
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well, they'll tell you that the grass is greener on the other side
but they won't tell you that it's astro-turf
and you can help us fund the revolution,
buy our shirts, buy our shirts
because we've got oppression on wholesale
and we've got culture war in a bombshell
crooked politicians and fighting that won't quit
if you're a business man why don't you buy your own bullshit
i'm fucking worried
i'm worried all the time
i'm worried, i'm worried
well, they'll tax the dead, they'll tax the poor
they'll tax the taxes, they can always take more
they'll drink your oil, they'll drink your blood
they'll drain the oceans, they'll cause a flood
they own the police, they own the news
they'll do what they want, we're used to the abuse
you pay their fine, they make their dime
we break their laws, they break our jaws
i'm fucking worried
i'm worried all the time
i'm worried, i'm worried
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8. |
Goth Summer 2009
03:41
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i need to refill my medicine
and refill my coffee
scoff off the tired and lonely
and peel the layers from my eyes
i need to ache more productively,
distribute my empathy
to anyone and anybody,
someone who will take it from me
but the days end so quickly and the moon stays up with me,
it whispers stories in my ears of all the ways i could die
and there's a song in there somewhere
but if not i don't care
i'm happy healthy purgatory, head in your hands
and the second i get home, i wanna be alone
don't even have the energy to open my eyes
and i swear that i love you, i'm just scared
i'll be sure to write you the prettiest letter just before i take flight
when the ambulance finds me
do my best to say sorry,
motionless and trying to smile for stolen imagery
and seconds before i'll be chatting with your god
she has the prettiest smile that i ever did see
and the second i get home i wanna be alone
don't even have the energy to open my eyes
and i swear that i love you, i'm just scared
i'll be sure to write you the prettiest letter just before i take flight
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Quilt Monsters Huntington, West Virginia
a punk band from
huntington wv.
fast, angsty, leftist shit.
Derek - Bass/Vox
Brad - Drums
Dane - Guitar/Vox
Devon - Guitar
If you like Quilt Monsters, you may also like:
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Marvelous, manic punk rock from the Meltaways with all the energy and combustibility of a shaken soda bottle.
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The songs on the latest from Worriers hurtle forward breathlessly, with hook after hook topped by scorching vocal melodies.
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Spetters / RA!D
by Spetters & RA!D
A terrific split cassette from two promising young indie bands, this is one part melody, one part fury.
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It Doesn't Matter If It's Cool
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Punchy garage rock that reaches back to '90s riot grrrl and queercore for its grit, snarl, and righteous riffs.
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Spotify is Surveillance
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The Boston artist's latest punk album takes surveillance tech to task.
go to album
