How much time am I spending
on my dreams or my
nightmares?
How many times did I say can’t
When can was just
right there?
How many opinions can you opine
So much of your business
on the state of my mind
I know I’m a cunt-ry of states in divide
Where falling is the standing order implied
In order to be united in some state of me-tribe
I’d have to find middles in a world so left/right
I’m way too broken to know darkness from light
It’s so much easier to just stay wrong and behind
Watch me paint demons pretty in rhyme
Losing a battle in a war I won’t fight
My compass only slightly demagnetized
Go north, fuck it, I’m willfully blind
I’m telling you I’m smilin’ man it’s total-ly fine
I think I know it all but
I don’t even know how my nose blows
Giving my problems 20/20 focus
Driving with my rearview cause it’s closest
I say all the right things but the wrong words come out
Then I start doing all the no’s I thought not to think about
Almost like I could do alright if I was just okay being wrong
But I’m always listening to someone else’s song,
Telling me all the no-s that I already knew
But I thought nots cancel if you put them in two?
I’m so lazy
I’m too slow
I’m too crazy
I don’t know
Don’t fucking post that
Dude, that shit blows (like my nose)
Playtime is over
Get back in your hole
Get the basket
Get the lotion
And gimme the fucking hose again
It’s like the whole world is the enemy of my only
friend
And I’m waiting and I’m hoping
I can come back and try
again
Where I’m not fucking up who
I am
Cause I’m too busy thinking not
giving in
Cut my nose, spite my face
Tell myself I have no grace
Grinning skull, it’s okay
I told myself it’s not today
Cut my no’s, find my faith
Who said I just fell from grace?
Grinning skull, let’s go play
No one told me no nots today
And now more words….
Still on an Eminem kick. A little Lil Wyte and Jelly Roll thrown in there too. It’s weird how when I was younger, I thought rap was bullshit and trash because I was so cool, pompous, self-righteous, indignant and a banger. Or whatever. I never actually fit in.
I liked metal, but there’s a lot of metal I don’t like. If it sounds like GIAYHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFJHFEORIUQ RAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR and I can’t make out words or syllables or anything more than primal throat gouging, I don’t care. I actually am probably generally offensive to most actual bangers. (and humans)
But, as far as hip hop or whatever, same thing – I only like certain stuff, and I don’t even know what it is. It’s almost like I have a repressed inner wigger (is that okay to say? Do we still say wigger or is it like Suburban American? I don’t want to be offensive) that’s really pissed off and likes rhyming things. But, that’s not really me either. I’m more like a mosh pit at a rave where everyone is on acid trying to find Buddha. There’s no label, man. I don’t fit into any party. 😦
Any and every label is another word for euphemism. Instead of just accepting labels as kind of general descriptors, it’s like people really give a shit about them now. Like people got pissed about “nu-metal” then they were pissed because of what got labeled nu-metal, even though it’s really just a state of attempting to make these tiny little variances amongst invariable variables. I call it metal. Nu, old…adolescent angst in a 37 year old’s body…I don’t know! I genuinely gave a shit about being a banger and now I’m like…dude, you barely like metal by the standard metal definition. You’re like a stay at home mom who can’t take any more bullshit… Like fucking Rage Against the Soap Scum
So then you come to the hybrid stuff where I’m actually generally found – HELLYEAH, Slipknot, Korn, etc. where call them whatever you want, they change song to song album to album, and that’s generally the people I like. The ones that just can’t fit into any category because they’re so damn good they invented their own. Is hillbilly hiphop a genre? (and do we still say hillbilly or is it Rural Americans?)
That’s all my opinion, and it truly doesn’t matter. There are folks that will throw down if I shit on any artist for any reason and equal numbers that would defend to the death whatever artist I’d shit on. But I don’t see any reason to shit on anyone because if I’m listening to them, they’re literally doing 1000000% more than I am. It’s not like I’m singing, or starting a band, or doing anything more than washing dishes and either rapping or gutturally inquiring as to whether or not you can feel my catharses/hate/rage/sickness/etc.
I don’t know, none of this probably makes sense, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t give a fuck. I keep trying to create well-crafted doilies to decorate my turds with and I’m so tired of it. When I actually enjoyed writing, I quite literally did not want anyone to read anything I wrote, and now I give a shit? Why? Everyone’s arguing about everything – what labels you listen to, what labels you wear, what labels you allowed someone else to slap on your forehead and cheer for, what labels you allowed someone to slap on your forehead and cry about… what does it matter?
It really doesn’t matter the label or the genre, pretty much every lyric comes back to stop listening to me, stop listening to everyone else, and just listen to yourself. Just lose the fucking labels and it’s all the same damn song.
Mah Butt Itches 