Lost

I was born.. and 53 years later, I still don't know why.  My father left us when I was a year and a half old. We moved. We were poorer than most; I remember that... I remember never having a good pair of shoes until I was 17 and was sent into the Army. I remember being made fun of because of my poverty that I had no control over.  I remember being different, and being told by my own mother, 'I wished you'd never been born." I remember my alcoholic uncle staggering out of my grandmother's trailer when I was 13 years old, walking toward me as fast as he could with a long stick in his hand and throwing it against the shed that my grandfather built before punching me in the mouth, knocking me down, putting both knees on my shoulders and bloodying both sides of my eyes.  I remember longing for freedom from the ugliness that surrounded me.  I remember running to the military for escape when I was 17. I remember learning how to play guitar in the Army.  I also remember a lot of other really bad shit from the time I was a year and a half old until I was 17 and I remember a whole lot of good and bad shit since then. 

In 1999, I tried to take my own life.  That event spiraled me into about 4 years of being under the scope of psychiatrists and other people in that sort of profession who only pretend to care about you if you can pay them to. I endured shock treatments, tons of medications, and being locked in places with extremely crazy people. The struggle to climb out of that hole has been real since then.  As I write this now, it is the worst year that I , or anyone else has ever seen in the world... 2020, and I'm still trying to find my purpose in life. 

My music is essentially my bio.... I don't write songs to impress people.... I write songs because a songwriter is who I am... it's who I was born to be...I wrote my first melody to the "Golden Rule" when I was 7.  I was born to be a poet , but I'm not allowed to be in this world. In this world I have to unclog toilets, breathe in harmful mold spores and harmful vapors from paints.... I have to break my fingernails that I use to pick my guitar.  I have to bruise the hand that I use to chord on a guitar.  Why? Because people who were born to build; they have friends who blow smoke up their asses and tell them that they are great musicians...so they draw a crowd and get paid gigs while people like me and many others are forced to do their jobs so we can eat . 

I'm not the "premier" anything.... I'm just a guy with a guitar writing songs about a life that only I will ever care about..... you can download my music for free if you want, and if you don't like what you hear...  I'll give you your money back . 

 

 At age 17, his mother signed him into the Army. It was during his time in AIT that he discovered the guitar and hasn't put it down since. 

Over the years , Mark Jensen has received some songwriting awards, and was given an honorable mention for his song "This Crazy Life" at SongoftheYear.com in 2010.


Mark now resides near the Twin Cities in Minnesota and spends as much time as he can in his home studio either composing on piano or producing better tracks to his songs which are numbered in the 100's.

Send your music: outstandingpromo@yahoo.com

Lost

Mark Allan Jensen