1. |
1. Intro
00:16
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2. |
wasted
01:12
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Wasted: Wasted, I'm wasting away. Fucking Wasted, I'm wasting my days. We finally made it to the city (Woah-OH) drinking driving shooting fucking (oh-no) we'll never make it out
of this place alive (woah-oh) oh-no woah-oh. Wasted, I'm wasting away. Fucking Wasted, I'm wasting my days. Theres puke stained blood inside the lime light (woah-oh) I don't think
we're getting paid for this fucking show (oh no) we can't woah oh our way out of this one (woah-oh) oh-no woah-oh. Welcome to punk rock wonderland, one shitty haircut away from
having the kids eat right out of our hands. One shitty hook to seal the fucking deal puis je m'en fous de tous les cons qui pensent je suis pret a le faire facile, c'est pas l'affaire
de se saouler la face, d'etre le punk avec les meilleures patches affirme ta soi ou j'men christ de toi pis t'es ostie de chansons fake.
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3. |
artistic license
02:47
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Artistic License: You know we're never going to make the rent (oh no) and you haven't graduated yet (not yet) are you going to quit your job to tour again (fuck no) what the fuck
is going on inside your head. You know that girl will never give a shit (oh no) and you drank yourself to sleep again (I guess) have you planned the fucking tour yet (fuck no) what the fuck
is going on inside your head to make you think that these dreams aren't next to dead, carrying some kind of necrotic disease thats going to eat up whats left of you, me, what we've built
and what we've come to be, that it wont just fuck our lives. I don't know what I want I can't sleep I wont fuck, don't want to feel like I spent my life compromising, to get by, to get mine
"played it safe enjoyed the ride" I swear I'll do my very best to cast all cliches aside but there are only so many ideals I can self-identify with. Who am I, what do I want, what do I need to
feel complete, and its not like I don't know whats right or wrong for me but, who am I, what do I want, what do I need to feel complete.
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4. |
suicide dance
02:23
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Suicide Dance: Well I'm no saint, you're no fucking martyr. And your pretend chains they wont make me do the suicide dance to steal the spotlight from your one man bullshit show we've still got no
palm trees in vegas, we're still the bastards of young. And in the end we're just cocksuckers to the core for realising we don't need your crocodile tears anymore.
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5. |
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a toast jedidiah... (to squeaky): some days I measure a small victory in seeing past the red without putting my fist through a fucking wall. these songs used to be socially conscious now I'm just
conscious of the fact that I'm a borderline sociopath on the dangerous side of giving up. and like a drowning rat I found solace in the fact that I'm not alone the waters rising fast, you made me feel
like I had time to taste the marrow. I've done my share of wasting time sleeping in and beating a dead horse chasing sparks that just weren't there. some days I'm off to a good start if I can go two or three
straight hours without taking my first fucking drink on the dangerous side of giving up. and like a drowning rat I found solace in the fact that I'm not alone the waters rising fast, you made me feel
like I had time to taste the marrow. I found peace and understanding while our time came and went by, you brought a piece of me back to life. you gave what I stopped believing in with your dances and your smile,
you shattered my heart back to life. You brought dreams back to my sleepless nights. and I'll always carry on, even if all I've got is this fucking song.
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tight nuns Toronto, Ontario
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