CRY

Feeling forgotten. Such a sad thing. With blaring organ guitar feedbacking. With such love.

With monster, with hair with teeth with goodamn heart.

full of only sour milk stomach

With only the heart meant for a real traveling soul.



I'm not sure when to quit.

So fling me into the fucking sun.
Stretch my arms farther than imagination could go.
Throw me around while I sing Happy Birthday for money.
Drink me while I hate you.

I'm so tired of writing this shit. this shit that sounds like any shit some 13 year old could write. This garbage that any depressed little turd could crap out.

I get so downed by knowing that my little folded up noodle is capable of more. But still, it doesn't produce.





Goddamn, lost a few friends maybe?

I really am having a hard time coming to grips with this world.

I'm disappointed with my surroundings.

What's wrong with wanting someone to love?


What's wrong is no one understands.

Yea, yea, boo hoo.

Salt, wetness, hearts, floors

Turned way by every fucking friend I thought I had. Blue skin is on the outside in. Hate to fear for my family, but I have to. I hate to be this way, but I have to.

My siamese is out there, begging.
She doesn't know it but she's out there, raging.

My twin is out there, wanting.
she's out there, coupling.

I've been pulled, like you have, torn
A dogfaced wishboned, scorned.

A lump, a hurting brain, a catastrophe, gone insane.

Teased blood, born a little late
souls burning, crying at the gate.
banging iron, knee's scraped,
begging for love, not your hate.

We push, against your will,
pouring forward, tears like a drill
Pushing out, the things we hate
ripped in pieces, the love we gave.

and afterwards, you still yell
torturing us, with your hell
Aborted love, you force on us
Our stupid souls, in lust we trust.

And now you leave us, On our bedroom floor,
while you hurry, out the door
to sit and stir among our salty hurt,
While you plan your next big flirt.

Gates

I've got
nothing to live for

Everyday, I might give you more for
Those times you spent on the fucking hay.


Everyday I've got
nothing to live for

Everyday I've got nothing to push forward

Everyday I've got nothing to say.

And when there's nothing to say.

I'll say

you've got nothing to live for

Passions been knocking at your door

Loves been passed out on your floor.

And you keep giving it away.

I'm fucking slacking in the cussing department

Created by OnePlusYou

Weekend recording session

Just got back a little while ago from recording over the weekend. We spent a total of 13 hours recording between Friday night and Saturday. Practice a part, record it. Fuck it up. Record again. And again. And again. Once more. Fix problems. Smoke. Drink a beer. Fix more shit. Trip over cords. Smoke. Record. And there is still more to be done! My buddy is doing the final mix this week, and I hope to have the final version in my hands within a few weeks.

I think it turned out great. We recorded to an 8 track, and mixed down to a four track. There's a total of 1 drum track, 1 bass track, 2 vocal tracks, 2 guitar tracks, and one track for overdubs. Drums were mixed through an equalizer and we added some reverb. The bass was ran through a Turbo Rat for some great distortion. On the guitar tracks we used to different guitars ( a Les Paul and a Strat) with two different amp setups. We recorded the vocals IN the Melvan. It made for great acoustics, and a great story. It smelled like mold and beer in there, and there was a dead bird and a dead rat on the floor. Good times.

I can't wait to hear the finished version. It's goona be good.








I also got the Mel-van pics I needed to get. Sent em off to the editors a few minutes ago. I think my work is done for now. I'll have to wait n see if they want more.

ow

Sometimes I drink to much and incorporate Melvins lyrics.

I have a throbbing headache.

Argueing Whole Things

A tiny pieced together skull fragment takes it all back home.
A tiny love of our life brings the gnomes alone.

A beautiful piece of arithmatic will knock us together.

elected us, such willing partners.

( you've heard that before)

the corner, the shelter, it's a provocation.

Yea, I'm hearing the argument.

Everybody wants the way the untold way.

Process, is a special, provocation

Everybody wants something

But for now, a burning, a burning waiter.

an everloving looking.

A cry, a distant cry

another wet distant tear for us to start our story on

I want to yell.

I want to hear another.

Take me over!


There's a good concept here. A tale of good and loved and hated and strewn away.

Pass on this part to your children and make it a part of everyday life.

The ( this) argument is making this a good time.

Does putting in more make less of a whole?


Did you really think life would know?

Go! Go! Go! Go!

Time to pass out on a thumb less guitar player.

I now understand your addiction.





I like it.

a song by song word interpretation of moist thoughts and dry love. And it isn't all me.

My thoughts:


Starting off like chimes
Beating into a drum frenzy and
multi layered vocal conspiracy.

We will always sell our poison.
Wanting everything
Every moments swollen
Then there's a fast part.

Massing anger amounting faster than I can relive

The rising tide will kill you.


Beautiful drumming and dirty distortion.

My eyes are needles and not so narrow.
My headphones are free. I don't know what I even want to try to be.

Wake up!

drumb(stick) pieces only try to be.

Ignore my crown

Not so you'd know(tice).

Body dies arrested in this bucket.This bodies cold
It's still growing bolder.


There's a stillborn love, only suitable for me.
Red 9 # 1
We were waiting.
One of my babies is right, with the gun.
My own wisdom goes now,
Cuz he's right

Four eyed muscle man
The true are not enough
I'll bang it out loud, and I was looking
for a system tough enough.

My own wisdom goes now
cuz were right n simple

It's a definite fever
Made for just a me n you.

Made simple, just a thing for us two.

There's a way to forget us
Send me
Home now

If only we didn't piss it away.
It's there for this season.
Could you tell by the motion?
Could you tell by the light?
Could you tell that it's you?

There's a reason for our confusion.
There's a reason for our unknown love.

There's a little animal, way up in the air
My nose and tongue are roving, but maybe it's not there
There's a little man now, in the middle of the earth
He gives himself these orders, and let it all be burned

There are lots of makeshift wonders, seven in the world
Five of them will not be noticed and three will not be heard.

There's a meal, there's a window, there's a place you can see
You can keep what you've stolen, just give it back to me.'

I'd rather chase my vengeance, even if their dead
Maybe his time is coming, and maybe he's better off.

I'm gonna leave part II for later in your brain.

It'll take off from here.

Like a fucking concord.

Forgiving myself for my brain

A high speed random thought process




Pour more in, get less out. divisive brained architecture. stupid boy with stupid words. wood, plastic, hops, lead, and aluminum. Tar, nicotine, and paper. Cd's magic ink, personal stink, and there's no link.

It's come down to me needing someone to share my rotten brain with, or hunting myself. One quick shot or a gulp of sweet chem's. No different than a pig or cow shot down to make me live.

I can't hear music anymore. It behaves like a tourette ridden firecracker. it makes no sense to condition my goatee, and it makes no sense to keep looking for a partner in crime. It's a small gasp at future love, but without the future.

Or the love.

Talking about saddiction. I don't think i could be anymore pathetic.

We all want to be loved. But not all of us will be.