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Make The Most Of It

My Friends over You (Live) (Bonus Track)

A punk concept album about a young man shouting himself into adulthood.
Across twelve raw, confession-heavy tracks, [Album Title] follows a lad lost in self-loathing, cheap nights, and inherited chaos — dragged forward by the rough voice of his father, or his own reflection, or both. Each song rewrites a “rule” not as advice, but as a confrontation:
stand up straight, stop lying, find better friends, sort your own mess, chase meaning, let yourself fall, tell the truth, hold onto small mercies.

Musically it hits like a hybrid of spoken confession and shouted doctrine —
talk-sing verses, ferocious gang-vocal choruses, soft middle-eights where the armour cracks.
The album arcs from self-destruction to reluctant courage, ending not in triumph but in tenderness: a quiet alley, a stray cat, and a small moment of grace.

This is punk as self-repair,
a mirror held too close,
a father’s tough love echoing through the walls,
and a boy learning to grow into a man
one brutal truth at a time.

OCCUPY YOUR SPACE

I shipped a tank, UI made of nails,
Go-core fortress, but it still fails—
Not the server, not the load, not the stack,
It’s the human hitting friction, snapping back.
I preached KISS, DRY, “clean, correct,”
While users ate error text and regret.
Support isn’t tickets, docs, or pride—
Support is the path where people don’t collide.

[Chorus]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Cut the noise, cut the fat, cut the myth—
Make it work, make it clear, make it swift.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.

[Verse 2]
I fished features “for them,” what a joke,
They don’t want my fish, they want the boat.
Onboarding in thirty seconds flat,
Buttons that say what they do—imagine that.
Errors that heal, not punch the face,
Defaults that guide, not waste their days.
If it doesn’t help today, it dies—
No funeral, no meeting, no lies.

[Bridge (half-time shout, then snap back)]
No more ego-coded mazes.
No more “power user” excuses.
Humans first. Flow first.
Then scale, then style, then whatever.

[Final Chorus (double-time)]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Ship the passage, not the bragging rights—
From “I quit” to “I get it” in one clean bite.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.


Every Time I Look For You

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