Nothing I've done is any good and I'm not happy with anything I've ever made

Nothing

Mum's drunk, Dad is too
I don't know what to do
You can't choose your family
Anxiety and depression too
Emotionally stunted and terribly rude
You can't choose your family

You Can't Choose Your Family

Oh take me out dancing
I am sick of love
Let’s drink and talk everything
Until the evening steps drunk and sways
And our eyes start to follow
The line of each lip
And corners of necks
Until I am sick of love
And you take me out dancing again

Take Me Out Dancing

Some indulgent background music for a video montage of a train trip to Adelaide.

Adelaide

But if you're pretty, we could get together for a drink or two
and I could spend a welcome hour just noticing
all the shapes and lines that move to make you up
make you up inside my mind just like a song
and I'm sure I wouldn't notice them at all
all those things you do and say that make me crawl

But if you're pretty, I'd promise you the stars and buy the moon
and you know you can't return that thing
your eyes would be a mirror to my soul
so I could see myself as something beautiful
instead of seeing all these holes
walking like a bridge about to fall

But if you're pretty, we could come together and be a perfect waste of time
solving then creating the perfect crime
waiting for the right time to know if the time was right
moving through the suburbs like an all consuming god
and pushing out an evening like a lifeboat out at sea
wondering if the problems you or if the problems me

Pretty

Sampling

Surf Slow

One day you wake up and you find your home
it's on the train now, its on the train
you get off at the station and then you get back on
on the train now, on the train

I'm riding through the city, I'm sitting here alone
on the train, on the train
I'm staring out the window, I'm staring at my phone

Train Blues

I spent two hours writing that god'damn email
and something of me, something of my divinity
my power, my grace, my time on this earth
went out from me, into that shitty email
something of my thoughts, my feelings,
my trying to do everything right, why bother email

I had three people CC'd just like how its supposed to be
so that everyone could not read, my piece of shit
cock-sucking, no good, dirty, piece of crap, goddamn email

And I wrote it twice, I edited it until it was nice
took everyone's point of view into account
piece of shit email

And I felt it leaving me, a tiny piece of me
ripped up into shreds, dusty pieces floating round
wrapped inside the envelope
waiting to spill on the ground of that no good email

Samuel Baird's Album

Email

Pickle me with whisky, pickle me with wine
I'll not be sleeping soundly, I'll not sleep tonight
I'll be thinking bout your body
thinking about mine

Wait for me this sunday, wait for me this time
Wear something too revealing, I'll be staring at your eyes
I'll be waiting for a signal
looking for a sign

How long have I been lonely, how long have you been kind
How long have I been waiting for something to go right
I've been dreaming about your address
wondering what I'll find