1. |
Last September
02:27
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Lets write song about love Lets pretend like we’re dreaming when we’ve just woken up
We can’t quite fake a smile cuz it might take a while and being happy’s contingent on luck
Lets set something on fire Lets commit to ideas based on shallow desire
We’re awkward and bored as the doctors ensured we chase chaos and never get tired
Let’s abandon our homes Lets all move to New York so we’re never alone
Lets follow our dreams like ambitious machines til we burn out or turn into stone
Well we’re here and we’re honest sometimes pessimist at heart
born again from second chances and a world that fell apart
while we’re here we’ll be honest we’ve been better off before
But our ghosts from last September just keep knocking on our door
Let’s drink poison and cry Scrape the bags dressed in rags half-asleep dead inside
live punk-rock right until the fun stops and it will and we fade out still wondering why
Let’s embody the worst Make an album about them strictly off power chords
Let’s conquer the world off of songs about girls and intentions immune to remorse
Well we’re here and we’re honest sometimes pessimist at heart
born again from second chances and a world that fell apart
while we’re here we’ll be honest we’ve been better off before
But our ghosts from last September just keep knocking on our door
Let’s write songs about love Let’s pretend like we’re fine when we’ve just given up
The stories we tell transcend glory and hell through perspectives explicitly just
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2. |
Overture
04:22
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I am a vigil of the evening skies, watching over your thoughts, until the metaphor dies
Counting Down From Three before you disgust me, tracing out the mind of the enemy.
Through Thoughts unspoken, dead and broken, give me a reason to believe
That you’ll come around, before we’re all bound, to go down, down, down, you see.
And as I sit at home and write the generic thoughts to a pathetic life,
My mind drags me up and down the lines, without a single hint or sign
Of being better than this, or being able to move past the ignorance
that makes up this bitter town here, and most of the fucks I end up near.
Without a Sound, I’ll spew an overture
that breaks the ground, for the immature
And it gets me so down,
that this will never cease, and I’m outnumbered to say the least
I’ll lay six words on the table, what are you trying to do
you’re unstable, and so far from the truth
Just a few more words, and a breath and a half
to say you’re the worst scum this world has had
And I watch it through bloodshot eyes, hating this world, and waiting for its demise
but if it’s criticism that you fear, I’ll shout again so you can hear
Without a Sound, I’ll spew an overture
that breaks the ground, for the immature
And it gets me so down,
that this will never cease, and I’m outnumbered to say the least, to say the least
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3. |
Misanthrope
03:08
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Make a sign, be sure to build it to last
Here we find the finest genre of trash
Covered in a layer of pretentious disguise
I’m smart enough to know their filth will be their demise
Less like a human from the size of his head
More like a maggot the way she feeds on the dead
I keep seeing traces of ignorance and stupidity
And I’ll try my hardest not to let it get to me
But these kids, from caves they crawl
And the truth is I hate them all
So I’ll hold my breath ‘til death or July, but I’ll still die
a misanthrope
So I’ll stay away from you for as long as I can
Avoiding eye contact and conversation
‘cuz to be honest I don’t feel like getting mad
and the anxiety you all give me is bad
Cuz these kids, from caves they crawl
And the truth is I hate them all
So I’ll hold my breath ‘til death or July, but I’ll still die
a misanthrope
So I’ll fade into the night where they can’t find me
But every day that passes by, they’re still there to remind me
Cuz these kids, from caves they crawl
And the truth is I hate them all
So I’ll hold my breath ‘til death or July, but I’ll still die
a misanthrope
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4. |
Sweet Apathy
04:33
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I spent the night in a state of fright,
burning out through doubt, suppressing appetite
Such a climactic chase leaves me a basket case
convulsing to the beat of disgrace
I paint these hallways with the broken swears
from the complaints I always cut from my affairs
and when I sit back down, my pupils hit the ground
grasping for answers that I haven’t found
When you have fun, you’re a social strum
while my face and fingertips burn red and numb
Upon this angst I sit, one more climactic hit,
abhor the tragic case called getting over it
Apathy, sweet apathy, my futile lash at thee
This conquered gaze I flaunt for days will make you pity me
Bore slightly and persist for quite the anarchist
I should have knocked on wood I’m shocked I stood so close to this
I hope you know, you’re an idiot
Your aesthetic goes to fully contradict
your range of common sense, that claims its innocence,
and turned me out to pout and repent
But nonetheless, I’ll make it on your list,
as the undone, obsessed compulsive masochist
Unhatched its who I am, but scratched into my plan,
I fit the frame of a saner man
I played your game, through all the rage and shame
I learned to take it easy or end up insane
I feel the lust and hurt, from my meal of dust and dirt,
concealed in trust I thus portray the introvert
Apathy, sweet apathy, my futile lash at thee
This conquered gaze I flaunt for days will make you pity me
Bore slightly and persist for quite the anarchist
I should have knocked on wood I’m shocked I stood so close to this
And when you talk to them, I unblock my phlegm,
one more jealous twitch upon which I’m condemned
With thirst you’ll move along, in search of smooth and strong,
Leave me to rot in thought of what on earth went wrong
I hope you know you’re an idiot,
your aesthetic glows and yet you lack the wit
to realize what was meant, despite those cursed events
that brought our tainted run to its end
I hope you know I don't give a shit,
your aesthetic bodes a grace that doesn’t depict
your inner disconnect this is my void attempt
to counteract all the compliments
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5. |
Post Summer Rain
03:53
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Bring back the sound, dig up the crown
Places, he raises the flag
Stone cold denial, he'll hold his broken smile,
chasing a daydream that passed
Trace autumn through the flashbacks and stories
Safe songs reduced to soundtrack memories
I'm not prepared to face the sands of fate who's hands erase our names
Like footprints in the rain
I had it for a minute, starry-eyed
My passage to a cynic robbed me blind
I should have known I stood alone, no wooden home is built to last
It crumbles and cracks
Summer was spent under cement, basements train stations galore
Christmas was cheap, vicious and bleak, weaving the meaning of bored
What happened to the vision and the dreams,
I have been on a mission to relieve
The stress, the rain, the mess, sustained at best by aimless ends that speak
to all my disbelief
How nostalgic for a tragic quest for havoc can I be?
Some things are best set free
Carry the sound but bury the crown, repurpose the worthless flag
Today will be tomorrow's memory of grieving this meaningless past
No time to waste displaced, enslaved to a fate whose waves erase our names,
like rain
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6. |
Watch Your Luck
04:32
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Deem it tasteful when it’s vulgar, sad, and sour
Self-labeled culture mad with power
Represent the apathetic cries for hope,
and grab aesthetics by the throat
Adolescence, countless lessons
You like to think it has a message
It’s not obscene, it’s art in the name of love
written neatly and in blood
He tells his friends that he sees through a nihilistic lens and he thinks that they care
It’s the establishments fault, he screams with vengeance at the
wall, the point was lost in alcohol
Melodramatic and vain, he treats them all like they’re
insane without a single trace of shame
It’s a long way from the top
Watch your luck
Try your best to hold them off
Pinky up
We slow our hearts and then we snap them dead awake
We start to crack but never break
We’ll burn the bridge and we’ll destroy the polished paths
to get our point across intact
We’re not heroes nor endeared prose
Is it a way of life that fear chose?
Its not a cry, its a cringe inducing yell
for anything but help
We comprehend that they pain of awareness never ends,
what a curse, woe is me
We’re losing everything, our aspirations and our
dreams to blind subversive ecstasy
Its our poetic disguise, the tortured artist whose
demise is dealt by self-fulfilling lies
Its a long way from the top
We overshot, who’d of thought we were human all along
What a cruel twist of fate
To fall apart and obey, or chase an overplayed
cliche, its not as simple as they say.
I’ll throw my arms to the sky, like those before me left to
die from these abusive terms in time
It’s a long way from the top
Watch Your Luck
Try your best to hold them off
Watch Your Luck
Take to the skies, I advise that you watch your luck, you make a point of letting go
No sympathy
Kill, make 'em bleed singin'
No sympathy
Rush guaranteed, singin'
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A Crash Republic Boston, Massachusetts
A Crash Republic is a Boston based pop punk band aimed at telling stories that transcend glory and hell through perspectives explicitly just.
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