We’ve been butting our heads until there is nothing left Flumpity dumpty we cracked each others eggs We just talk of disrespect and unconsidered blood and stomach and leg Swell and overspill and pungent sweat We want to do song like wicker man but instead we just bicker man And I planned something in my head but we travelled the world to argue about how something was said We have each other’s backs We both have backs Is it constructive criticism Or just a form of attack? It’s all push and pull Conversations on tension There’s more baggage than our gear We try to keep it unmentioned Oh the shows the sights the elation so quickly met with a negation The self hatred I tried to better direct There’s a rug you pull that resets my head And I have tried to have some pride But it is so hard with you by my side You like to remind me who I am And as I try to build a better life you naysay my plans I can try so hard I can fall so fast Recognise a little thanks Best I’m gonna get from you today you do not try so I do not too Soon we are both ashamed so I hide my face from you and The tether binds, don’t want to share sometimes All my life sliced down the middle The huff and the puff The strop and the snap Is it constructive criticism or just a form of attack? Now what is said behind my back? Oh how do you skew the facts? So many details missed out Your actions hurt me more now

And so we give each other someone to blame and to be grateful for all the same But those who say they miss my love tell me I give you too much Well this proximity is a bomb waiting inevitably we arrive at awkwardness Try to sustain but for months you blame me We have no homes and there is a baby For once I can rely on myself but you’re dependant and you need help So I try once again, a facade of autonomy you project A thankless task a thankless friend Or am I just not patient when you are depressed? Whilst I feel stretched I feel you push This is my limit, I’ve had enough

Now i get the chance to speak Albeit forced albeit brief A pretty picture aren’t we just One for the victim the victor whose also judge Our horses in Balanced prose dragged our corpses in gallant robes In competition to decide who hurts the most when we collide Come one come all Come one come all Here comes the king His righteous majesty Fate has betold thee A king should take a knee For if he cannot bow his reign no one will allow His head he struggled to keep His head quickly rolling past his feet

Well we’re both stuck for foreseeable days And You call me the king I feel like your P.A And as things go wrong I can’t see my own error I call you the brat but you feel like a carer And I can taste blood from sucking on my teeth with the cuts on my tongue and my gum disease And it turns into to venom for you and the band Like the tritons spit and spat but with our poison glands And as all confrontation is carefully preserved in our bog of conversation we fight back unreserved I will always be to you an extension of i And who are we? Just potatoes The ones with the eyes pretuding The ones going off in the cupboard The ones with the eyes pretuding Grubby and stubborn Grubby and stubborn Grubby and stubborn

This band is a pathogen It’s damaging, reprogramming my brain so now I cannot think the same Please just give me some reprieve from how I am perceived These many lives we live as one A congealing performed character Fist me til your hand comes out my mouth then turn me inside out All I do is think of myselves How can I be dog? I chase the identity crisis I chase the ego trip I chase the path of the righteous I chase my own tail I exist as this Some concept based on projection from a project based on myself That has reached its peak obsession as I can think of so little else I think I’m a narcissist, maybe I’m a sociopath, could I just be self critical, or all at once at that? I chase the identity crisis I chase the ego trip I chase the path of the righteous I chase my own tale

I see the language that you choose to present me as some pompous stuffy fool And I could wipe your arse for you and you’d still call me the princess if I gipped at my fingers And You slept on the floor again Must be a repercussion somehow of being my friend The most of myself I could give you And I hear you slyly blame me for ruining your life Come on come on merry sage of perspective, tell me where I’m fucking up, as I wipe off what was spat into my face with love I don’t know what you’re gonna do without this if I’m honest This palace of virtue is just a hole full of malice And from the highest precipice you still smell like Piss I worry the fall will be too high for you One of my Ideocentrics making their big normie debut The crumbs of pride we have are just crumbs

One trick ponies Mutually lonely Uprooted trees Are Plastic phonies Oh god is this it? Have I really become this ego mess and everyone close to me can see it but I can’t and I just continue Oh god how often am I thinking not of me as me but if me as some concept and don’t your dare touch it! Ask me and will the response be considered or a slithered play with perspective until all light and contours of the room are focused on me I curate this life for us then ask why it is not enough I think I know how you see me sometimes Watching the fake meek wrestle with performed humility This much time together We can both say “I see the worst parts of you” and we so often bring them up with each other.

Well you’ve seen me at my worst and I’ve seen you at your worst and now it’s starting to hurt because we both expect it. You are always the worst I am always the worst Well you are always the worst But I am also the worst You you know you are the worst But I, I know I am the worst

Look at this flower in my hand Outstretched without speaking So eager to devour I look upon the flower decode it wrong become the loser It grows in girth, your hand it withers More detached from now Occasionally look up and dither To bury eating away At your body and mind So carefully nourished Symbiotically intwined Look at the flower you say Look at the flower you say Don’t give it shade Don’t give it shade This is the very thing that helps us get big Don’t give it shade Don’t give it shade Don’t give it shade Don’t give it shade All objects that are extensions of me are broken And here you berate me like a boomer For the second life I hold in my hand The one that gives us all we have planned You criticise me like all else that sustains you Wince at the taste of your mothers boob We travel and complain and point fingers and we argue about privilege, like the privileged like to do, like the privileged like to do. That’s me and you.

In the field harvesting cause the seasons just two weeks Ley lines and past minds show the light bulbs at your feet Back in the town Nihiloxica Colonial privilege treat While the libertys are adding up System to defeat Now in the smoking area We discuss how heads were blown Alien Dave talks about the vision of crows Hundreds of species descend on one tree They converse for a minute In all directions flee I can barely stomach it and need to sit down Stand bolt right up again Crack my egg on the ground The yolk that fell out The yolk that fell out Self trapanned myself beyond any doubt My friends pick you up again And I say that I’m allright Raised my hands to God and then fell over twice The gash is now widening to the size of a two pence peice I think i’d rather die than spend the night in A&E

Fear the tree we grow from Can’t align to one For I am at the side The one who hides The ungrateful son

Water mix of meat to wash my feet Piss wrapped scum Pig, duck and plum A fine soup A yuppies gloup In the cave keeping the company of flies Greasing their hands Land on my lip Buzz back to the bodies in piles Greasing their hands Land on my lip Buzz back bodies Doubled in size Swilled together forever Fished out of the hole You are in a new form Coagulated and cold Fill the bin to the brim I noticed the shit Undo the knot Land on my lip Before they buzz off You start to cough The steam is stuck The muck now rock Meat water bellows out the sides Piles of bodies doubled in size You feel ashamed You mop the floor

Does humour belong in music? Does sadness belong in humour? Am I a cult icon or still a fukkin loser? I’m sick of singing about me I’m sick of singing about you I’d rather sing about pee I’d rather sing about poo

I’m the man who loved Corduroy so much, He got his skin impregnated with impressions of corduroy Corduroy I like corduroy Corduroys for me Changed my name to corduroy Corduroy you see Corduroy is my hat Corduroy is my foot Corduroy

In right angles The key is moving Frothing the air as you do so No need for perfume It has a smell of its own Prepare a bowl Now Get a twig A pile of stones Add water if you have it The likeness now forming Forthcoming out the essence The likeness now foaming Pronouncing its presence Is it near or far away irrelative in display Cutting through space and time Like dog made from slime Canine Devine We Call On You Boosep Wiggle Renew Extol Up to the ceiling In one minute It squibs It squirbs Wiggle Renew Exalt all meanings In squibs and squirms

Some worms weasel, but not me! I’m just a worm

Sometimes I think silliness can save us May as well be a joke if it’s the end But I wonder if when this is over Can we stay friends? As I feel used I shorten my fuse

Three-Legged race with someone you hate

Oh I got too hyped up again I felt too good and made a silly old fool Egg on my face, foot in my mouth Acting like a child Don’t play games Don’t be purile I will undermine myself Check out my self sabotage Inviting you to witness what I will cringe at in the future Sharing broken karaoke of the old self that you wince at Butcher the past, dig up old long-Gones to see how detached you’ve become The feel cycles between fraudulent and entitled And I am saved and sometimes shamed by perspective Boastfully introspective Lace my palm with silver and I’ll sing a song about how shit I am a contrived analysis of me where words and themes repeat All my bursts of joy are quickly met with regret And bursts of openness and creativity and all my first attempts And soon I’m asking what of what I’ve made really needed to exist? I can feel my pride and shame are too closely interlinked

Some lines oh why did I write I have to repeat them night after night Yes you can tell me I control my life but I feel humbled and I feel obliged I miss not caring if what I make is good And I miss the unproductive bullshit I love And I miss my friends even more And I get scared we aren’t friends anymore Congrats to me for coming so far Me rushing round Britain with a guitar making love to myself How could I call it anything else? I ruminate on the cognitive space where all contemplation is going it waste Revolve through a cycle a figure of eight I think about thinking about me I know I am trying too hard Always publicly trying too hard I want to be cool and effortless But every little thing is so much effort I wonder what you think The royal you The chosen few I wonder how I cause these stinks To act natural is to be vulnerable And so what’s the real goal Is it just to be worshiped As a way to like myself. Well I won’t think I deserve it. What i posit as a cure It becomes evidence thereof Of my fakery and flaws And as the layers are torn off And i return to my own space With time alone inside my head I’m still faced with who I am And all i keep unsaid What are you gonna do What are you trying to do What are your goals Are you goal oriented? So what’s the real goal With any influence comes cowardess The power projected on me In the end makes me feel powerless I’m paranoid, and yet perpetually interacting With realms to build persona despite how it’s impacting My ego and my friendships and my mental health I hope I can transcend it but it’s my whole sense of self So what the real is it to touch people with experiences which I’ve weaves into fiction To share my thoughts and beliefs of which I hold no real conviction Become constructive contradiction so that you can learn from me from the safety of my pedestals built from fallacies I know I’m the fickle fucker I know I am the selfish lover I know I sad and undeserving I know am privileged and I am also hurting I keep being told the importance of self love Some days I think I don’t hate myself enough And if you relate does that make you bad? And for making you relate does that make me bad? And do I glorify what it is to be sad? Should you just turn off?