This one is for a man who kissed me, who I thought was cool. Wish we could've created together. But you made it weird.

lyrics
You are a creepy old man 
But I’m still trying to understand 
Is there something that I missed 
That made you think I wanted that kiss? 

Maybe the problem is me 
I am the common denominator 
Should I wear a bag over my head? 
Maybe then I wouldn’t be such a trouble-maker 

What happens when I get old? 
When it’s hot but my body feels cold? 
When I’m still young and beautiful in my soul, 
But my face ain’t pretty no more? 

Maybe when I’m old I’ll be free 
From the girl men want me to be 
Or maybe I’ll kiss somebody young like you did 
To try to keep ahold of my youthfulness 

I just wanted a friend 
You just wanted pretty company 
I guess beauty is a sin 
So to hell with my body 

Will I look into the mirror and cry 
For the pretty young me who has died? 
Or will I look at myself and smile 
Because inside I’m still a child?

credits
release | December 31, 2017 
Music and all that jazz by little ole' me. André taught me how to use all of this recording equipment. And also made the track louder.

Creepy Old Man

Collab between casio keyboard and depression via me. Intended as cathartic humor with a Cake vibe.

I'm Not In A Good Place

I wrote and recorded this one today because anxiety kept me from doing what I had been looking forward to all week.

I can’t come over
I told ya
I have too much to do

I can’t go out
I’ve gotta stay in my house
Quiet, empty rooms

About this weekend 
I know you want
To have some fun
But I can’t go anywhere

About tonight
I know we planned it
To be romantic
But I can’t even go there

You should still go out for the both of us
Or go out for just you
Really, baby, I’m okay
Whatever you want to do
It’s on you
Cause I’m not going anywhere

Just one second
I know depression
Seems like oppression
When I can’t do anything

But plot twist
I try to use it
To make my music
I can’t speak, but I can sing

I can take this shit and make it into
Bops and bangers, baby
When I’m feeling better
We can dance around to this like crazy
It’s on me
I gotta get me through this

It’s lonely 
I don’t want to be lonely
But I don’t want to be
Around anybody else right now

Demolition Derby

8/27/18

Quiet, Empty Rooms

I wrote this one to process PTSD-amplified grief and anger.

Lyrics:
You backstabbers
Scumbaggers
Heart smashers
Heartless bastards

You have everything, 
but you don't care about anything 
Except yourself; you sure seem to care about yourself

Yes, I'm hateful 
To those ungrateful
To those unfaithful
Who commit betrayal

Something rotten inside you
Gorges on good things and leaves behind nothing
You're too cool to care about anything - Aren't ya? Aren't you?

Part of me
Wants to turn you into a human shishkabob
But part of me
Wants to curl into a little ball and cry for the love you
Dropped in the dirt
Kicked in the face
Left there to die
Rotting in place

Part of me 
Wants to crush what I'm leaving behind into dust
But part of me
Wants to focus on me and leave it alone to 
Rust in the dirt
Without a face
Left there die
Rotting in place


Soon you'll know you lost a good thing
You lost a good thing, baby
You lost it
You just lost it

This one
Goes out to 
The backstabbers

You know who you are

To The Backstabbers

I wrote this today about some of what I've been thinking about lately. It's kind of a fun existential crisis song mixed with a rant about the rigged socio-economic caste system. 

Lyrics:
My eyes aren’t even open yet
Starting the day with an existential crisis
Morbidly aware of inevitable death
Got too much to do, but not enough life to do it
Oh well

Today is gonna be okay
Well, I don’t know, maybe
Oh, never mind, it’s rainin’ 
I guess I’m gonna stay in

Watch Rushmore and text somebody
Who I know doesn’t like me
Eat peanut butter off a big spoon
Bash on the keyboard all afternoon

I’ve got decades of albums in my head
And dozens of books to write before I’m dead
I’ve got epiphanies to drop on people
Like a ton of painful, beautiful bricks
But I’m afraid that I don’t have enough time to do it
Oh well

Chorus

I mean, even if I’m lucky 
And live to be eighty years old
I won’t have enough time to figure it out
With the resources currently available

If you’re in the 1% 
And want to be a patron of my arts
I won’t feel guilty taking money from you
But deep down in my heart
I’ll know the systems rigged
That in this world in which we live
You’ve got the money, so you’ve the power
To decide who and what gets to exist

Do you like playing God?
Because guess what?
You’re more powerful than God.
You have a tangible effect on 99% of us.

Chorus

Maddi Hicks

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