1. |
The Punchline
04:01
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What year is this?
Nurse!
I can’t decide upon a therapist
Or whether to stare into the abyss
Too much to unpack
From my bumbag
So many memories from which I want to be un-tagged
Some lack the strength to confront the past
I know I do
So get down to the front of the class
And sit in wonder, ask us how it all went down
And we’ll ignore you and ruin away from Harlow town
Centre, when to start, why and where
Or knock it down and leave it like they did to the square
But we carry that spirit in a hip flask
It inebriates us from the memory tip jar
We’re rubbernecking on the car rash of culture
Crushed under the juggernaut awaiting the vultures
That’s where we come in
Picking at the remains
Laughing and crying until it all feels the same
Riding out coz we’re a ray of sunshine, kids
Wearing it out because the punchline fits
Hiding out from taking all the frontline hits
Wearing it out because the punchline fits
New folder, parentheses two
Yeah, we’re getting older but we’re meant to be new
Eventually do the impossible
And get to the top
And when we get there we’ll
Do nothing else but beg it to stop
Getting rowdy getting antsy
This ragged trousered misanthropist
Getting down in my pants to this
And mispronouncing the fancy bits
Can we call this a no-score draw?
Then I can turn the light out and close the door
But my masochistic soul comes back for more
Time and time again I’m a matador
Waving my little red cape at the bullshit
Beckoning it back once again coz the punchline fits
Doing this at this age with these men and this beard
In a van that smells weird and my hair disappeared
Feeling out of place, unstuck in time
The way we roll’s more like blue collar grime
so it goes
Not worried about being successful
Make me young and I’ll work on being unsuccessful
It brings it’s own reward when we’re checked out
Like a lethal force against self-doubt
Keep telling myself that I’ve got none
But the voice in my head says this battle’s not won
Riding shotgun with
imposter syndrome
Spent 18 months at home
Yet here we are with lung volume 4
punchline still fits like an obtuse fork
Or another cryptic reference
A second collapsed lung triptych beckons
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2. |
GLC
02:13
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Collapsed Lung Harlow, UK
Formed 1992, Harlow, Essex, UK. Beats, bass, guitar. Rhymes about what's "real" to us. These days - middle aged ennui, social mores, feeling utterly out of touch. Yes, we did that Top 20 'Eat My Goal' track
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