Always Almost

Lyrics

"
[Intro – barely spoken, like you’re freezing]
Nobody asked.
Nobody ever does.
But I’m still here, so—
Here it is.

Verse 1 – raw, ugly, half-rhymed
Everything I do got one fuckin’ view,
Not the soft drugs, not the social 'use'.
Yeah I loved weed, yeah acid was fun,
But crystal grabbed me by the fuckin’ tongue
Clear as piss, splashed up on the walls!
Shook my hand, it said “you’re mine, that’s all”
Didn’t promise shit, didn’t bother to lie
It even fuckin stayed when everyone else let me rot away inside!

Chorus – shouted, crust-punk chant
ALWAYS REALLY, OR JUST KIND OF HIGH!
HONEY BUCKET STAYS UP EVERY FUCKING NIGHT!
SO FUCK!ING WHAT!? THATS ME! HONEY BUCK- FUCK YOU!
ONCE AGAIN, IM STUCK!
LET ME HOP ON THAT GLASS DICK AND SUCK!
AND LET'S FUCK!
VEINS HUM
FOR THAT NEEDLE—
I'LL COME!

Verse 2 – ranty, unstructured, bitter
Attention span shredded, basically dead.
Every plan rots in the back of my head
To-do list soaked in abandoned motivation somewhere,
I forget where the fuck I was going there...
Horny, twacked out, no progress done.
Got enough rocrastination for everyone!
I say it out loud, I could say it wrong,
‘but end the silence, shit never kept me strong.

Chorus – dirtier, faster
ALMOST REALLY, OR JUST KIND OF HIGH!
FUCK YEA I LOVE BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED!
SUN COMES UP,
I’M STILL IN MY HEAD.
GLASS DICK-
BONG RIP,
I WANT RICKY ON THIS FUCKING BED!
BUT FIRST I'MA SHOWER REAL QUICK!
CUZ IM DONE WITH THIS SHIT!

Bridge – spoken, bitter laugh energy
This ain’t aestheticly pleasing,
This isn't attention seeking,
I'm sure it's considered survival,
It's all I got left, so trivial.
Some call it addiction, I guess.
I call it assisted living instead.
At least I opt for honest,
It's not that hard, honestly.

Breakdown – pure crust chaos
NO HOME, some more, again.
NO CLOCK-ing out or in,
NO JOB-by, Freddy, I ain't got a jobby,
NO STRUCTURE- I could lose ALL THIS!
NO MOTIVATION- not even a hobby...
DUMPSTER DIVING- That counts as therapy.
SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK- retweet.
I CAN’T AFFORD TONIGHT

Verse 3 – homeless flex, deadpan
Friendly neighborhood fuck-up on wheels,
(That's me!)
Digging through trash for something real
(How filthy!)
You got a life? Cool—good for you.
I got a kid's sized pop up tent, dude.
Home is where I make it, straight on the ground.
And yet Everything lost gets found somehow
If it’s broken, wet, or thrown away
Yeah—i'll find a use for it one of these days ...

Final Chorus – slower, nastier

Outro – quiet, exhausted, real
Not that anybody cares.
...

then yelling loudly and repeatedly
Bop Bop!
Bop Bop!
Smoke Bop!
Bop Bop!
Slam Bop!
Bop Bop!
Bop Bop!
Bop! Bop!
inject Bop!
Yes please!
Bop! BOP!