Bad city bad house bad lungs of mine  I get so fucking sick I had to find the time  My head is full of shit my head is full of mines  If only we were all this unhappy  If only we were all this unhappy  Bad news  Bad look at mine  My head slips right off of the spine  And right through  Right through to you I see what you’re doing  To me and  My city  I like it  I like that  I never know what I want until I don’t get it  Yeah  Why did I say  You could stay in my garage?  If we were all unhappy  We wouldn’t have to be  Waiting so long  For you  My head is empty  It’s full of fucking shit  If I have to hear this song on the radio one more time I’m gonna fuck it up man  Why did I say  You could stay in my garage? If we were all unhappy  We wouldn’t have to be  Waiting so long  For you

Pissed off Shit-faced I don’t give a fuck about your mixtape I’m Pat Benatar My heart breaks quick I like a little shit in my Nesquik™* And I don’t like this I don’t like mixed drinks I’m an upright walking, talking quadruped 'Cause I'm a shit head I'm a fucking shit head And I don't wanna be me Yeah(3x) I'm not like Seinfeld I'm about something I don't really give a fuck about your side hustle This shit's like Darwin 'Cause it's got legs When life gives you lemons, fuck the lemonade Cause I'm a shit head I'm a fucking shit head And I don't wanna be me Yeah Dicks out and express emotion *Nesquik does not promote defecation in your chocky milkys

I got a brand new paint job On my Subaru 2009 Jim is always coming up to the passenger side He's like I think your car is great I wish your car was mine I really really really really wish your car Was my mate my mate my mate my mate I Waste I Cope I Waste I Cope I got a brand new paint job On my Subaru 2009 Jim is always coming up to the passenger side He's like I think your car is mine I think your car is great I really really really really wish your car Was my mate my mate my mate my mate I Waste I Cope I Waste I Cope She mocks the pepper boys And cold cuts the arrows In this small provincial town I call home And I cope Cope She marks the errors on my Diploma cover up And I decide How I want to die And I cope Cope I Waste I Cope I Waste I Cope And I waste And I cope And I waste And I cope

Me and my own A skintight jeans type of home Full of canadian pesos Fe fi fo sea foam Washes ashore with your bones To show you don't know what you know And you know And you know And you know you don't know what you know And you know And you know And you know you'll be the one to see the day And it goes uhh I'm kosher I'm King James And D-d-d-d-d-d-desire It's a brand new kind of commercial fire I'm gonna break Into your home And leave disgusting voicemails on telephone I like the taste Of celibacy then you see That you really don't know what you know And you know And you know And you know you don't know what you know And you know And you know And you know you'll be the one to see the day And it goes uhh I'm kosher I'm King James And D-d-d-d-d-d-desire It's a brand new kind of commercial fire Yeah It goes cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu... cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu... Cut it up Mark Fisher writes: The long, dark night of the end of history has to be grasped as an enormous opportunity. The very oppressive pervasiveness of capitalist realism means that even glimmers of alternative political and economic possibilities can have a disproportionately great effect. The tiniest event can tear a hole in the grey curtain of reaction which has marked the horizons of possibility under capitalist realism. Ugheaahhhh

I'm King Coopa I'm Casanova I won't stop fighting 'till the fight is over I fuck up And I fuck up again I'm not the type of man who learns his lesson I move up Another rung Then you push me back down like it's so fun You push me around and around Around and around Around 'till I say Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service Take what you want from me Take what you want fro me Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service I'm glass atlas I'm glass atlas I break under the weight Of that kingdom come [lyric unavailable] Big man dick man A little bit stronger Than a conman We're bringing up the basement Fuck you We're bringing up the quality Will do You push me around and around Around and around Around 'till I say Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service Take! What you want from me Take! What you want from me Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service Let’s take some time To go up to your parks and then we’ll Sit under the stars The holes that burned right through the dark sky It didn’t take us long To fall in love in moonlight I hope I see you again Until that time comes I’ll be singing La la la la la la... La la la la la la... National Park Service National Park Service Take! What you want from me Take! What you want from me Take! Time! To thank! Your National Park Service

In 20 words you gained my sympathy 13 minutes you became my enemy Can no longer take your wide deception Your only fate is full abolition I’ll make you disappear I’ll make you disappear I’ll make you disappear We’ll make you disappear You come into the bar Head so sicken-like I don't know what I want I comb my hair back  And see what what I can make But I don't want your love And I don't need it No, I'm so self-assured The sycophantic play Binds to my desires While you walk away Yeah Fuck this place fuck this place up Fuck the people up fuck the people up Arm the mothers fuck your fathers I want to see their fucking heads on the floor I’ll make you disappear I’ll make you disappear I’ll make you disappear We'll make you disappear

Just Google “Police 40%”

I heard you scream out in the woods That Fugazi shit Pissed a little bit  That felt just like a pistol whip A mentality wasted That's so sorrow-filled If today don't work Maybe tomorrow will I try so hard  But I can't And I try so hard But I can't I spent three days in my room When I heard the news It's the worst kinda shit To lose a future view It's true Kicks the shit out of you Gives you a little bit In lieu of something better And I try so hard  But I can't And I try so hard But I can't I take what I got To keep what I get I try not to lose it Even a little bit Slipknot ain't got shit On us cause we fuck up In such fashionable ways Sweet, tender, and mild Heaven on high Give me a sign Give me a reason why I ain't got money I ain't got no more money I ain't got no more time or peace of mind yeah And I just give it up And I get stuck I need some melatonin Choking on the ends of our hope up in Ticonderoga Kids around the table Talk smack So she don't like hip-hop But she likes Wu-Tang Remember wasted in basements Watching Batman Man I fucking miss you I take what I got To keep what I get I try not to lose it Even a little bit Slipknot ain't got shit On us cause we fuck up In such fashionable ways Sweet, tender, and mild Heaven on high Give me a sign Give me a reason why I ain't got money I ain't got no more money I ain't got no more time or peace of mind yeah I push it I push down child I push I push it down child...

The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles.   Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian,  lord and serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood  in constant opposition to one another, carried  on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open  fight, a fight that each time ended, either in  a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large,  or in the common ruin of the contending classes.   In the earlier epochs of history, we find almost  everywhere a complicated arrangement of society  into various orders, a manifold gradation of social  rank. In ancient Rome we have patricians, knights,  plebeians, slaves; in the Middle Ages, feudal lords,  vassals, guild-masters, journeymen, apprentices,  serfs; in almost all of these classes, again,  subordinate gradations. The modern bourgeois  society that has sprouted from the ruins of feudal  society has not done away with class antagonisms.  It has but established new classes, new conditions  of oppression, new forms of struggle in place of the  old ones.  Our epoch, the epoch of the bourgeoisie,  possesses, however, this distinct feature: it has  simplified class antagonisms. Society as a whole is  more and more splitting up into two great hostile camps,  into two great classes directly facing each other —  Bourgeoisie and Proletariat. John comes crawling down...

Yeahhhdbahisjaofasnqaa This track gets shit-faced on Saturday nights And picks fights for no reason This track votes politically right-wing Because of its paranoia and lack of self-esteem This track tears holes in the ozone layer Gnashing teeth ripping through the atmosphere This track withholds desire In hope God will reward his love A child running through the darkness An adult unsure of his career path The army approaches unseen '​​​​​​​Cause all the posts have been abandoned To be unsure it hurts To feel the way  You make me feel Ohhhaudhoasdoajiaaa This track uses public transportation 'Cause infrastructure is well and surely sound This track is mostly improv This song is made up words A child running through the darkness An adult unsure of his career path The army approaches unheard 'Cause all the scouts have been absorbed The way You feel The way you do what you must do Asifafaosjdoaockaoxksakpaappappaaaaa This monument was not not built for men This monument was not not built for men I love what you do do do in my head I love what you do do do in my head