1. |
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i lit up a liver today, i’d give up a literal leg for a little more day to fix a mistake,
consideration isn’t feeling the same, what little respect i could get for some written distain,
we distanced ourselves from the distance, the distance is safe now,
peter out of the just spitting the same nouns,
really playing the synonym game now,
but i had to sit with the name, since he finished the race watch me mimic a greyhound,
i lit up a liver today, i was six had the littlest taste, i spit that shit straight out,
then we hit the playground, he probably drove me there,
always knew i could make sound, but i can walk myself there now,
still wouldn’t say shit but i’m a brave mouse,
haven’t even stepped in a trap yet,
cathy screaming, i was steadily sat there,
its just me and my headwear, it’s just me and my girlfriend,
it’s just me and my best friend
it’s just me and my mum now,
won’t speak until sundown,
at least until i get my leg back
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2. |
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i wrote this in my dungarees,
i’m the protector of my lover’s dreams,
the ending of her nightmare,
i’m my dad’s jaw, i’m zac’s right leg,
i’m the light bending, i’m the time pressure,
i don’t write songs, i write endings
i don’t write hooks, i’m right-lefting,
i’m testing patience with some light questions,
up north sight-seeing with my lady, wine testing
i’m the lion that zac’s dad was in the den with, call it depression,
i’m ____ clawing for attention,
i’m the coffee we’re sitting over explaining how i never meant that,
regret staining every sentence, plain and simple i’m at my best laying on benches
i’m forgetful, might forgive today because i feel like it
i’m every “fuck you” i ever penned him because i felt like it, because it felt nicer,
can’t sleep under hotel lighting,
held lighters like a newborn and i’m starting to smell like him,
and repeat myself because i’m forgetful and i felt like it
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3. |
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i see a little bit of me in the face of these kids,
sometimes it’s scary as fuck and it breaks me to bits,
my finger still get aches when it lifts,
hidden under tables and behind excuses and shit,
mum sees a little bit of her abuser in the face of her kid,
what if places were switched like shoes, i wouldn’t have step-taken in his,
i was eighteen thinking it was a cute little race to the end,
then it came and i didn’t need the ‘but’, i’d have taken an ‘if’
i probably gotta save it with this,
now i’m dating and shit, i mean like really in love and it feels amazing and shit, talking about babies and shit, plotting on naming and shit,
i mean, my zac debt is paid off as shit,
my mum and i’s relationship is still straining
and maybe i’m scared of that,
maybe she’s scared of me,
too impaired to speak, sure as hell could rap, those two things spare the grief,
so what are you telling me?
still bearing teeth,
still in therapy
still on the same street i was raised in,
my girlfriend is my fortune teller, tells me of the days end,
arm in arm, laid spread on the same bed, may get a bit brazen,
i should probably save that,
look into my mother’s eyes and i can say for sure that strains mend,
but my finger still gets aches depending on the way it ends,
at the end of the day the strains do mend the stress and the pain,
and as of late we’re doing rather well,
what else could i do with that but raise a joint,
maybe a glass as well
pen lazer point, trained and poised to stay polite,
the smell isn’t my issue, it’s the neighbour’s plight
maybe i’m wrong
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4. |
wedding (prod. ghowste)
01:04
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say it with your chest tom
i said it with belly instead, i wanted sleep,
i’ll settle for rest,
i honestly was very depressed,
i wanted peter there at my wedding,
it’s getting very repetitive, i’m aware and it’s scary,
i can bare a reflection, but i don’t want to mirror addictions,
and i heard that nicotine is very addictive,
and i hope that listerine and therapy rinse it,
how could i say it with my chest if i could barely pronounce it?
should careful who i’m sharing these nouns with,
i said it with my belly instead, i still meant it to death
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5. |
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make the mistake of attempting me,
an old guy on four wheels with two dogs is my dispensary,
hat forward with two crocs are my accessories, matter of fact necessities,
i know for a fact lachie was scared to meet, matter of fact dreading it, what if i meant the threats i said?
i sure didn’t, hobbies turn to bloodsports quickly,
i flew to melbourne with the god of wisdom,
flew back to the thought of jorts unzipping,
mourn different, not ready to unpack it but i can sure unzip it,
if you’re gonna lie at least run with it, matter fact come sprinting,
at least i’m feeling all the anger that my mum didn’t,
spend my whole life making things unsimple,
my thumb twitched and wrote this at the tip of a cloud,
really consumed by thoughts of plane crashes and jorts hitting the ground,
good thing i wasn’t thinking aloud, taught myself thinking isn’t allowed,
talk to my mum about her husband dying,
it’s the type of thing we snicker about now,
probably because i’m sinking a pound down,
we’re doing better and the distance found out,
arguments about living down south, i really just want somewhere we can call our house,
our couch, our bed, our pets, our rent, our stress,
our work starts soon, our haven’t left the house yet,
our weed, our sleep, our naps,
all our money on them naming someone i couldn’t outrap
mister switched on amidst the withdrawls,
it says in big print “tom” at the list top,
i’m not trying to make you jump, i’m trying to make your skin crawl,
make the bed shake like a stage, get my praise then i limp off,
dick long, everytime i write it puts an inch on,
rappers playing fetch with the pen, i got it gripped, dog
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6. |
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it’s hardly hidden well,
scars where i ripped the shell,
spitting out fingernails,
speak and mutter letters,
heard the body is a temple,
it’s complete and utter disregard for the citadel,
you should see what i didn’t spell,
what i didn’t say grace for
fuck his little christmas belt, i could care if my biggest pair were sitting at my ankles,
consider that a thank you,
i was on the couch really speaking to an angel,
legs angled now i’m sitting at a banquet,
sleeping wrapped in blankets high,
wake dressed and anxious, why?
probably stressed to pay in time,
but i can pay him mind, october hurts,
come may i’m fine like the day he __,
but god knows it hurts to wait in lines,
i’m worth my weight in sophie’s favorite lines,
used to seek, now we’re just playing hide,
how many days i stayed inside straight, a week?
think about turning six like five days a week,
one joint, five strains, make my mind race for weeks,
heard the closet creak, now i’m playing seek
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7. |
flowers (prod. ghowste)
02:04
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flowers laying on me,
i’m out here playing zombie,
my girlfriend praying for me so i walk and softly,
and working thankless jobs like when she coffee,
it’s grace forgotten, it’s the saying sorry,
it’s the meaning that, it’s the holding hands and silences between the jabs,
it’s the ducking and the weaving act,
it’s the getting tucked in and relieving that,
it’s the really loving what you see in that,
it’s the really trusting and believing that,
without you i don’t breathe in air,
or see an end, something something redirect,
flowers laying on me
young enough to see the error of my ways can bleed upon a page and be a ceremony,
zac just accessed his emotions and i’m proud of him,
and he’s proud of me
flowers, reefs, surrounding me,
dreamt he gripped my throat, never found a beat,
loud as can be, talking about the weed not the sound of the speech,
found the belief that’s there’s mistakes i’m really bound to repeat,
good me, counting my sheep, a couple hours of sleep, flick my hand if a mountain impedes,
i almost drowned going down a ravine, mack saved my life and now we don’t speak,
i don’t know if i’m cowardice or so in-between,
if there’s ghost in this house i don’t know if we’ll meet
my therapist preached more power to me,
i had to agree, the plugs just a small outlet to reach,
play this shit for zac and he’ll be proud as can be
and i’ll be proud as can be,
wake up and rip the flowers out of my knees,
lying on my lover’s chest, sigh loud as can be
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8. |
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these watercolours are frustrating,
i just want to relax and i’ve been on the cusp lately,
but facing that was tough, baby,
of course i had to relapse, i heard his ashes scream at me, of course i want my weed back,
i mean, of course i want a rematch,
whole blunts lying dead on my mother’s deck,
like she hasn’t seen that,
these watercolours are frustrating,
i can’t even fucking write but i’ve been on the cusp lately,
truth is i’m doing better than i was, maybe
and i just want to talk about you holding my hand,
walking around in the sand in queensland,
and maybe we needed that even if we never go there again, i mean like even if we never talk about it again,
i just want to talk about you kissing my cheeks,
left, right, forehead, i’m weak in my knees
i just want to talk less and listen when you’re speaking,
but these watercolours are frustrating,
dripping to my sneakers, i wanted a lighthouse and got a pissy yellow beacon,
i just want to talk about how i miss you when i’m sleeping,
not how i misuse every demon,
how i’m swimming through the seasons,
how i lit the truth and breath in, it’s the minusculest wee thing,
how i give into the reasons
i just want to talk about you
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