I’ve got a list of things I need to do
But first I’ll trick myself to know how.
Devouring Seinfeld reruns in the afternoon instead
So who’s the looney, fed up fuckhead now?
Two mental purges of urges every night
Until I start to feel sick of it
Which will probably be never.
It’s not necessarily that I am addicted
I just fail to see how I’ll ever find something better to do.
Immediate regret
And wondering why the hell we’re wired like this
30 minute lifelessness
Repeated seven nights a week.
On the outside I’m a clean freak
But I’m just a regular freak where it counts.
No one else is gonna call me out
So why shouldn’t I?
Tennis ball colored bruises
An excuse for seeming sluggish
But when the lights go out
My mattress sees fit to straight punish me.
Erudite chamber pop that hearkens back to the elegant and experimental production of the 1960s, swinging from melancholia to playfulness. Bandcamp New & Notable May 13, 2016