I don’t want to start this album with this nylon string guitar That was past down two generations before being promised to me at a Daylesford bar so now I can play bar chords to bored teens in jean shorts who want me to start a party fiesta like ford but I told em I’m more holden my cards close to my chest buzz note on the frets ghost notes but don’t fret friends don’t let friends make solo bedroom albums but I’m tired of being afraid of doing nothing with my thoughts cargo shorts nothing stays in fashion and nothing really matters so I’ll make something charmlessly harmless so I’ll make something critically useless for I’m more about movements than moving with any strict process don’t wanna press my point I’ve made as much progress I’ll stop half way to success cos I want to move to a new beat shuffle feet to a simple four to the floor primitive with conceit painting rhythms on the wall just move my feet I don’t need to feel anything right now just move my feet Let the default logic pro x drum beat make me move my feet the task bar barking in the back of my head to be complete can wait 8 goddamn minutes for me just move my feet running on fumes feeling weak all week and now I’ve got time to unwind just let me move my feet I’ve got time to unwind no more thinking thoughts are thinning head is spinning won’t take a seat to my mind I say don’t mind and just move my feet push the bass into my chest concave the skin around my heart give me 7 more minutes to go offline to go dark to lose top down control and give my brain a blank sheet don’t have to move forward don’t have to retreat mind don’t mind and let me just move my feet.

Like the etch a sketch in static open’s window I’m extra sketch like Static X on a death trip Chef Aid melted my teenage brain Little Kim on one shoulder Fred Durst on the other And I never wanted a Pepsi Suicidal tendencies never quite hit for me Same with Bad Religion every song has the same lyrical flow I can relate though The haters can’t miss the bling dripping on my wrist
 Garmin Forerunner for runners hit negative splits Kogan credit card gift Power of points grift Like Sunk Loto I’m gonna need you to lift your head up high Look in bloodshot eyes I swear I’m not high most likely uveitis though eye drops yeah I’ve tried em 
Enough of this flinging hot piss Too easily distracted for a diss track like this Let’s call Dr Love and makeup just like Kiss Let’s walk down the aisle blasting Korn’s Twist

 What the fuck was J D even saying?
and how many times a day did I play it? Last FM lost count of me cranking Counterfeit Coal Chamber’s Big Truck straight in to Kittie’s Spit How did my life get to misery, hobbled with a Sunk Loto cost fallacy Democracy manifest, let me vote with my feet and the thing in my chest Democracy manifest, psycho mantis controller test Democracy manifest, man I hope this fest explodes like this heart in my chest Like an Incubus song now I wish you were here Line up at the Vine for $2 beer What did I hear now they’ve gone up to $4? last call Give me three quarters of a pot and I’ll get a 3 bill y’all System of a Down Skindred skin crawl Long Gully Toxicity Crazy Town Downthesun Cher’s son drowned in sound not a remotely good one How did I miss what was straight up in front of me? Goths on a beach wearing all black tees Democracy manifest, let me vote with my feet and the thing in my chest Democracy manifest, Siper Wolf’s Diazepam test Democracy manifest, man I hope this fest explodes like the heart in my chest

I am pretty sure I can rap over this pretty slow sad piano See me build a bridge and climb it from C major to A Minor since I first signed up to Mess and Noise in a mining town as a minor Ive been tryna get on the Meredith line up Blake 3030 Fashion Hayley Muscles where did you go? I wanna get booked for the 11.30am show follow City of Ballarat Municipal Brass Band double header regional spreader flow fumble with a glad hand So I can watch hungover pricks pack their tent that they couldn’t get a root in into their boot and drive off 10k under the limit so the cops don’t clock that they’re still 10 k bags over the limit I truly hope someone would film it maybe put it on a dvd like dirty three the violins are rushing in as lighting comes crashing in live show to a lightning show who would stay and get soaking wet just to watch me mumble fumble drop the ball during my set How many levels do you think Bon Iver is above me, electronically, not vocally cos I can’t hit a note and he can float emotional boats on a river of rich melody but not me Can’t pitch for shit, can’t stay in key so my thoughts automatically inherently feel less worthwhile but putting this shit together is a fun way to kill the time I’ll say Bon is maybe 7 levels higher, maybe even 8 More than 4 as I watched him in the rain who the fuck is gonna stand there ankle deep into the mud to hear the dog shit that floods out of my brain right onto the stage Who is gonna stand knowing their clothes are gonna get soaking wet watching me complete my set? I mean once a guy walked up a long hill in Hong Kong to see my old punk band play old short songs That was a peak for me on the steep peak I hope is quads are still ok I hope his memory hasn’t faded that it was totally worth the journey here to hear me play raw energy, can’t bottle me but I’d kill to sing in key I’d kill to play in time keep the flow up, not lose the rhythm be able to spit off the top of my head just like I am doing right now cut and rack cardiac arrest at a rest stop on the calder man you’re always looking back always looking for callbacks myspace top 8 no cut through doesn’t resonate with anyone anymore mate late night msn date forward email chain still trying to get on at golden plains well you’re almost 38, mate
 build a moat around yourself never lower the gate for the arrows that will be clucked and slung your way won’t be worth all the pain and no one is gonna stand out for you in the pouring rain

I’ve spent the last few days on highways listening to a podcast called Tape Notes and the host is real good and doesn’t talk about himself all the time gives space for his guests to shine speak their mind guide to the daily grind but these artists keep talking about how they write and record tweak decay and attack never get bored going back to the drawing board making reiterations of songs upon reiterations of songs upon reiterations of songs and how they are comfortable to sit and toy with an idea for over a year or however long it takes to make the picture perfect song not saying there’s a right way but if there is then I feel like I’m constantly wrong Cos I’m yet to be accused of having an attention span that’s too long 
you guys remember sisqo’s thong song? 
life long dedication to avoiding notation Short Fast Loud playing tracks from Damnation while these other artists are honing their craft picking apart the samples of Daft Punk Da Funk I’m distracted by Licking Cream and Skunk Anasie, being accosted by Little Punk on Xingfu Lu while everyone else around me somehow knew what they were meant to do cos they were right at home archiving files, labelling tracks, colour coding, tweaking backing tracks, eq-ing hi hats, re-sequencing claps, deleting all the splash cymbals, replace the crash cymbals forging a symbiotic relationship with Protools, cos unlike me they’re able to avoid a tonne of Ableton traps, and go back to their own tracks and know where the files are on their brand new Mac But I don’t ride with that idea, I don’t have time for all that, that mindsets luxury and I can’t afford all that at least I tell myself that before I pat myself on the back for figuring out how to stack three guitar tracks I just don’t have the inclination, patience to sit with the frustrations because I’m afraid if I don’t keep moving then the idea will die and my stationary movements will be the ones that killed it from setting up a studio in a hurricane’s eye and no song that I’ve ever written stands up to revision so I never revise I lose time when I edit so I never listen back I lose hard cash when they mix it so I never have a good track I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard cool song bro but the bass is real whack actually it sounds kinda shit well too bad cos I’ve already released it here’s the bandcamp code for a free download 100 max I s the absolute the limit cos who can be bothered re-listening I’m pissing into the wind I’m passing on vibe check I’m meek weak style over no substance, sub trance, Skitzmix in the bin, here’s Johnny’s film clip took too long to render for me, I’m on fire like Sender said to me, sent me, over the edge with a beanie baby retirement fund, blinkers on, even with this song, I can tell it doesn’t quite work but I’ve been working on it before I drive to work and I don’t want it lurking on my hard drive, I need it out into the world

I’m sorry but I can’t lean into this quasi inspirational ethereal thing it doesn’t fit for me, feels like a bland grift to me, it’s lyrical vaguery where the meaning flat out escapes me I find it shallow as all hell even shallow hal can’t stand it I prefer something I can hold in my hands I think I’m far more of a fan of pragmatic plans for this is just digging thin tunnels in dry sand looks structurally sound but there’s no real structure in the sound just an empty vocal grab looped into the ground until some context is imagined but I find nothing there, sine waves gesturing to air with no responsibility, and even less care I am not a celestial body shining bright but right now I’m here I’m here right now and I’ll die somehow I’m here right now I don’t need a crutch to pro p me up I’m here right now and I’ll die somehow I’m here right now and I’ll die somehow and I find more comfort in the fact that sweet FA really matters in the long run I use it to get through the day, to do what matters to me like long runs before day break, not take things too fake, not get hung up on lines that are flung up, celebrate conversations that are sprung up, chrouses that are sung from young lungs among cell phones with hushed tones, I want exhausted bones in a body that’s well known for being alive, from dive bars to bright scars, three wheeled cars, Fender guitars with buzz tones, sore cheekbones, decent seeds sown, a friendly face that was shown when someone felt alone I want exhausted bones in a body that’s well known for connections grown, to do lists flown through, far places flow to. I am not a celestial body shining bright. I’m someone who will die and that’s fine but I don’t need any spiritual enlightenment or to hear the same word burnt on repeat until it takes a seat in a familiar part of my brain that tells me life is a cliche saying I’d stay forever if I could but I’m not staying, and there’s loved ones who’d love one more opportunity to say one more sentence without pretence to loved ones that I can still go to and that’s enough to get me, I’m not yearning to turn to my dance music for moral beatings, I don’t want to slow down and spend one more minute focusing on my breathing I am not a celestial body flying through some spiritual maze I am exhausted bones in a body that got everything they wanted somehow someway I am not a celestial body flying through some spiritual maze I am exhausted bones in a scar covered body that got everything they wanted somehow someway

and I awake to find your eyes aren’t white like mine you claim lying awake for more than half the night thinking up and rehearsing all these soft bread lines to go and break my poor unsuspecting regional heart you say this shouldn’t have ever even come close to getting started but now it must absolutely end but thank you so so much for helping me justify purchasing and owning a double bed that my Dad lugged up the stairs one night out late deep after dark and if he knew you’d sleep it it you know damn well that he’d cut it up in half or at least up into thirds so bees can’t touch his birds with fingernails cut in squares and caked in small town dirt and don’t you think that time goes by so quick and don’t you reckon it’s enough to make you sick cos all you’re really left with is old photos from dress up parties that you’ll end up using as a profile pic and I truly hope to never ever go to one of those house warming dress up parties so I don’t get stuck in the corner with some fuck who’s drunk dressed as some cheap knock off Mario and you walk in the door dressed as princess wearing a beautiful long and satin dress that you got while buying linen with your Mum last Sunday morning somewhere two suburbs out past airport west and my eyes they catch and clock your gaze shallow movements that mimic a deep shame but don’t stress we can stand still and still make small talk about small insurance claims

I see a parasite, I see a goddamn leech I still see myself as that kid just out of reach true fear to step on the sand all those years ago at Hastings beach actions louder than words that I speak now move that fear from over there to over here cos now I’m afraid of forgetting, muscles seizing, fingers twitching, bones not shifting, I’m afraid of blood pressure lifting, security drifting off course and of course I ’m afraid of not living even though I’m know I’m not dying I’m afraid of rotting underground with all the ideas I never tried, shocking decomposing, I should be composing, should have moved with more direct intention should have taken advantage of the fact that two people met in Frankston and I was here and you were here too, hear tunes, hair triggers, go figure, shadowy figures, fresh fall recall lingers over stored memory of red mitzy pingers, gonna move my fingers while I got em, I’ll count and take the parasites to my discount coffin, ink blotting, blood clotting, rats in the wainscotting, bon iver’s cottage, I’m hostage to adrenaline, add pen on a line, to do, should do, could would, will do, well doomed, drop shrooms, still rotting, and I’ll count the parasites with me in my discount coffin