Break me as a charge
Collapse other's heads
Don't fuck him if he's dead
He's in a bad condition
Plenty of you, scums
Are banging my van
And burning him on a street
Cutting off his feet
Thrashing him down
The mud in eyes outcomes
And I was so much late
While smashing their heads
Don't bother the rain
Swimming in their guts
I forgot my name
Every street seems the same
I bother no more
Cause I don't have a home
My day is all about
Guts and thrown-ups

Guts

Sensitive insanity of sense of humour, drawin like an old oil painter, his hands are so much overtimed workin busy, serenade for my illusion, and she sailed with her hair and uncovered eyes of her, within a second I detail time, and with cut of tail I smash the fly, that's sitting on my back, and singing swampy songs, the shelter in the range of peninsula, get back you crawlaway, Adonis slip over his sleep, flash the flesh and flush it down, breakage meets breakout in the vain, rain that rains in the rain, it ruins, and runs, ignoring blinding sun, that ruins pose and turns and dose, tomatoes sliced and stick to the bones, it grows, dead sense of perfection, you kill yourself before you lay eggs, straight outta jail, with tattoo on her hand and neck, it goes somewhere near, i can almost hear, the tube and pipe and spinning round, the ironworks bad bad condition, near to the flat, it runs out like an animal testing its ability to live after being filled and fed with so much medicines, after being convinced he's free, the sorrow in his eyes runs before him so fast, it hits blue skies, and flats really bad, the holes in his eyes are as big as those in skies, and with so much light coming in, it starts to melt down, as a humanity drowns in sin.

Thirsty? Drink some streetdust (with vocals)

Whenever it comes to flying
I'm a pack of cigarettes
Security never been so tight
That's why it became so suicidal
Whenever it comes to flying
And it happens again
I'll smash the window
And take a deep deep breath

I feel that's heaven
Falling down
Clouds are rocks

It happens again

Whenever It Comes To Flying

free download: http://scratchpack.bandcamp.com/

scratchpack is: 
dawid basista -guitar/vocal. 
jakub baluś -bass. 
maciej budzowski -drums. 

written by scratchpack. 
recorded by scratchpack at auditorium of CKSiT, Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, PL. 
mixed by maciej budzowski. 
artwork by scratchpack. 

scratchpack.bandcamp.com 
2017

unconcious suicide.

intro

There's soap in my head 
There's nothing like you do 
There' re some crotches in my head 

He's some kind of a dove 
Likes to be here anytime 
There're some crotches in my air 

He's some kind of a dog 
Sense the smell of one another 
There're some crotches need of love 

Break up your vaults fuckers 
Sons of bitches go forth and 
Thrash some crotches in the area 
One forces to 
There're some crotches need of love 
There're some crotches need of love - like we need it 

In a bowl we would eat it, infiniately 
Nothing takes the ball like we need it 
But we're blind, but we could be it, clearly 
Nothing takes the ball like we need it 
Ain't you mad? But you dig it, anyway 
Nothing takes the ball like we need it 
In a bowl we would eat it, endly 
Nothing takes the ball like we need it 
When I'm blind, but I could see it clearly 
Nothing takes the ball, man just nothing takes the ball

Crotch

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IM THA PLUG! (feat. MitchyP!)

AvoHendrix X Billy (No Aim No Range)

It feels lik I just borrowed - And Showed You my sorrow
We've come so far by guessing - I guess I'm kinda messed up
I was so wasted 'bout it - You didnt mind and drowned it
And at the end your blessing - It just confirms that I'm sick
No matter how we tried it - I meant it, all of it
I've came too far by guessing - I guess I'm too much messed up
And I won't stand eye contact - These words are like death contract
Wanted to see some someday - But I'm off stage, I'm outta play
A script for loosing Monday - My verticality heyday
And I dont have a background - As a dead body I was found
And everyone back there - Just cried out loud and settled
And I think I've done it - Eyes burned in sun, we will meet
I've done with all my guessings - I just got used to mess things
But i dont want it at all - It just keeps happening
I'm like a sunburnt mother - Just wanna have a daughter
Just wanna have a son - And hold her in my arms
And tell him 'bout their eyes - And tell her 'bout the nights
That are outside and cold - I wanna to grow old
With somebody...

Script For Loosing Monday (Final)

grime twats trying to play rock
_
scratchpack was born in october/2014. since that time we've been striving to make something new and exciting, but still rooted in the classics.