Written & sung by Paris Brewer, with Kingsley Street Band, 1999
🕊️Remastered from cassette in Paris' memory

"Don't Believe In Love" by Paris Brewer • Kingsley Street Band

rough demo, words mostly complete. 
need to arrange this.
music= slow, simple

Bari Uke, Strymon El Capistan, Vox. 

words: 
it's a hard life
but it's not meaningless
he was chained to mirrors 
he was covered in glass 
he was covered in semen 
yes, it dripped from his face 
it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 
it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 

he would walk down the avenue 
find a rent boy at night 
if only for some cocaine 
and a smile and light 
it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 
it's a hard life 

he stumbled through the years 
his damaged brain tripped over 
scattered notes 
seeking lost melodies 
and dreaming of old torn clothes 
he missed the sweat of it 
watching the fire ignite 
to feel them strings come together 
in unison as a truth 
then words were not needed 
and ragged souls would align 
a language of moments 
carried on through the nights 

it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 
it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 

nights and days became years 
and he came to despise 
all the smell of it 
the death of the skies 
he couldn't stand being touched 
he would tire from convincing himself 
all the voices were his 
but that dance it would ground him 
when the melodies sang 

it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless 
it's a hard life 
but it's not meaningless
********************************************************

we'll see where this one goes.

Isssa Hard Life ver. A scratch (šuniukas)

Flex Awards. The T.E.A.M
Diamond Skyy
Buick B
Rocka Mr Everything

Produced by CannonWitDaBeats
Artwork by JFreshMrGoin

Flex Awards

Early songs (vol. 1)

Stone within

Pines (Acoustic)

The instant that the sun simply brushed on the horizon
The air felt stale and damp; crippling, damning silence
I opened up my eyes to try and take the light in
The burning just increased, I couldn't cease my crying
As rivers form beneath, my feet are slowly drowning
Becoming just a piece of an ever-growing problem
My inner-beast is rising as I fall deeper into darkness
Where's my inner peace?
Why can't I seem to find it?

I don't remember what it feels like to not be flying
I know it won't forever, but it feels like I'm dying
Cause cables got crossed on every pass
So I'm swingin' like a sailor off the tip of the mast
Just cutting through the clouds, rain pelting my face
Removing all that shrouds through a simple embrace
And all this pain that I feel now
It's insane, I don't know how
But I've got to refrain from doin' the same
Just retrain my brain before it drains and I'm left for dead
Don't wanna be left for dead

Movin' at a snail's pace
A lot of herb, little booze tends to keep me in place
Swimmin' through the grey matter
Find out how the day mattered
Thinkin' 'bout thoughts and how I wish they'd stay scattered
Oh, I'm reaching incoherent state
Though my eyes stay open wide looking for an escape, yeah
Well see you find me comatose
I'm simply sleeping awake
Running with your ghost
Running with your ghost through my dreamscape, yeah
When was the last time that we shared the same space
A little eye contact, a few words exchanged
Wait any longer, think I'll fade away
Just another life story lost to ink on a page

Yet I stay nestled deep on the highest shelf collecting dust
Nothing better to do than watch the hinges rust
See the time gets lost, can't remember when that door was shut
But I remember ever stitch, every cut
One day these legs will bend again and they'll carry me across this floor
My hand would rest on doorknob
Ear stays pressed to the door
The silence that I'm engulfed in, it makes my vision poor
As I realize
As I realize
As I realize you've forgotten just like everyone before

Lost To Ink

My father was drunk 
the night I was born
and he stumbled into the hospital
with bloodshot eyes
and whiskey on his breath
and he shouted to the nurses
"please tell my son to read books,"
before he disappeared 
into the night
forever.

Stupid fucking father,
don't you know that reading
is a lonely business?
That Shakespeare 
can't kiss you goodnight?
That books might give you ideas,
stories, an underdog's chance, 
but they don't protest
when they're burned?

Books

Kid Nomad

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