Bent Rules

Day Job

parachute!

So What?

IN THE MIDDLE

tripping over nothing (w/ DECAP)

Track 19 from The Dancing Plague.
Produced by Angelo Imani, Antn and Nick Montopoli.
Mixed, mastered, written, recorded, arranged and released by Funeral Fantasy.

lyrics:

I think that I’m ill and I’m sick in the head
The archetype of everything I wished for isn’t there
A body left to prune is all I’ve ever had
For the grain that was pure has swept away like sand
Pulled away the carpet and opened up the curtains
I think that I’m ill and that there is for certain
Certainly there’s something mustered in my brain
Clogging up my sense hiding a greater pain
For who shall not be named has asphyxiated it
What is love to me but a crueler comedian?
Tried all the works and still there’s no medium
Pioneer of my self-destruction without idioms
Idiot yes I’m a goddamned idiot
I know that I’m ill so I’ll quit thinking immediately
For self-esteem has been dealt shitty cards to hold
No wonder that it’s I who chose to fold
But no there’s something else instead
Something in my head that’s ugly and well fed
An idea of sorts or a common misconception
Not a common hurt nor a figure speaking blessings
‘cause I ain’t been blessed with the cards that I held
Welcome to the realm where all is show and tell but silence speaks loudly as well

I think that I’m ill and I’m sick in the head
The archetype of everything I wished for isn’t there
I think I see it clearer than what my mirror does
Reflecting the image of a withered fuck
Manning up wasn’t an option to have
When I cried there’s was only one thing to last
A forbidden fruit that ate away at Eve but when Eve’s hidden then Adam’s who I’ll be
But no that’s not what the problem was or is for that matter but it’s all bad luck
I think it is something in my code that I’ve seen before in my father
Oh I know now what it is and it’s leading up to this
No wonder I felt sick when I swallowed everything
It’s an addiction and I now see why everybody says that we’re so alike
I found comfort in drinking away
One glass of scotch every single day
Just after work when I get home
The glass is there and the bottle’s closed
So I open up and I pour a glass like my father did back in the past
And to think I said I wouldn’t be like him but I’m just like him
That’s the illness I have

I know that I’m ill and I’m sick in the head
The archetype of everything I wished for wasn’t there
It never once was there
It was all a thought
Just an illusion of what I could become
Body and blood like wine and bread
The day I chose my humanity over my faith and bodies that bled all for religion
Now that cross is a sigil of my truest death
Pardon me a casket opened up for the wake
In a church where everything that I was has remained
But my dad always told me to stick to my guns
Doesn’t matter if they shoot first when you already won
So I’ll win my fight with sharper means ‘til the seams of my armor finally tears off
And my victory will be howled at the feet of those who claim they know what God wants
I’ve been through hell and I came back sane
Your pity parties of religious shame
All to put me down and berate my kin
I’m due a win so let’s begin to reshape my skin

Reshape my skin
Reshaped my skin
Written my sins to reshape my skin
‘cause I know that I’m ill.

And I think I’m ill
And I know that I’m ill
Reshape my skin
Reshaped my skin
Written my sins to reshape my skin
‘cause I know that I’m ill.
I know that I’m ill.

What a gnarly cycle of true misbelief
How could I as a cunt ever hate what I’d be?
Never cry like a bitch yet I was addicted to
Everything I wasn’t ‘cause I was addicted too
All I’ve confronted and all I’ve idolized
Are now sides of me I’ve never realized
I’m like him but I’m not him
I’m dying but I’m alive yet

I think that I’m fine
I don’t think I wanna die
I think so much of myself I can’t even recognize my flaws
I idolized my strength and villainized my flaws
Combined into a world where I was but withdrawn
I was never there but I always was
I was never sick but this illness is all I got
But I’ll be free.

socials.

The Illness (prod. ANGELO IMANI, ANTN & NICK MONTOPOLI)

Quadeca - A Dream I Cant Remember [But Better]

million miles

Three Day Weekend

Trash

TRASH

The Introspects of a Psycho

-Written and Performed by 30
-Produced by Eeryskies
-Mixed by 30
-Mastered by Dacota
-Artwork by Henry Kornaros

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Please Don't Fuck Me Over

Quadeca - A Dream I Cant Remember [But Better]

Terrace Queerman

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