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lyrics

I wrote a song about boxing
but I'm better at avoiding a fight
I never gave or received a punch
and I'm singing songs about freedom
on the cheapest PA I could find
made in some sweatshop
with no way out and no break for lunch

there's no need to give myself a bloody eye
I don't want my family exposed
great job O sweatshops of America
with your fitness apps and your CO2
and malarial outbreaks in Malibu
and my kid in the camps
and a guard with a gun staring past her
and he's listening to false metal

I'm recording songs about rebellion
in an attic that I rent from a friend
in a lowkey utopian ethnostate
and we're both a bit uneasy
but it's better for us both if we wait
or do nothing
there's no parallel parking in hell

there's no need to give ourselves a hernia
the real heavy lifting's for the young
it's alright, we've done enough, let's go to sleep
yeah we've won the right to get import booze
and cartel cocaine and organic shoes
and a guarantee
of immunity from disaster
while we're listening to false metal

I see the sunlight in the window
and a pile of my passed-out friends
under the ruins of an upturned couch
I went outside and started walking
to the gas station next to the house
because there's no more time
and the power's out

the fake priest sold napalm to the bourgeoisie
while the fake proletariat got stoned
on expensive weed they bought with Face ID
and if nothing's real, then we get to choose
it's the end of time on a Carnival cruise
or a warehouse job and a blunt force bruise
or a nuclear war, or a great refusal
to call us dumb, you can tell us to leave
but the coward's favorite word's naive
it's endless grief
or a face tattoo of an Oreo
and false metal

credits

from The Lakes of Zones B and C, released April 10, 2022

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