1. |
House Fly
03:41
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Average housefly sifting through trash,
waiting to die, rubbing his hands.
He doesn't look up, a lady walks past,
traps him under cup. Now he has no chance.
So he waits inside a glass prison
at the will of the giant beast.
He wonders if his larvae will miss him.
All he wanted was a bite to eat.
He's stuck there all day. He flies around
just as his name implied he would.
He knows it's no good, finds no way out.
Searching for food, hungrily licks the wood.
His stomach growls, he loses all hope.
He tries to dig to no avail.
He wishes that he'd just be let go
but he knows that he's bound to fail.
One million faces of hers fill his vision he shrieks.
She lifts up the cup, he feels a collision, he's trapped beneath
this tool of destruction, or at least genocide of his kind.
He cries "What am I gonna do? I'm just a fly!"
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2. |
A Sad Sack (On the Wall)
02:53
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I really feel like I've wasted all of my time,
after all these years it appears my dad was right.
I'm always shitfaced, and I'm always out of line.
Worn out and insecure, I lay on the couch crying.
I feel insane, I'll blow my brains out on the wall.
This innate sense of worthlessness I feel has worn on.
I've played until my fingers bled, nobody stopped to look.
How can I complain? This is the road I took.
I only wish that my efforts meant a thing
to a goldfish, or a cat, or anyone but me.
This guitar won't take me far and I ain't shit.
A sad sack is sitting back, you're at the bar not looking in.
All these excuses when I know it's all my fault.
I carelessly ran for anything, ran face-first into a wall.
I wanna feel like I'm worth this gasp of air
before I scream out into it while I'm tearing out my hair.
I feel insane, I'll blow my brains out on the wall.
This innate sense of worthlessness I feel has worn on.
This guitar won't take me far and I ain't shit.
A sad sack is sitting back, you're at the bar not looking in.
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3. |
Relaxed
03:37
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New burn hole in my clothes from late last night
where I changed all my plans and planned to die.
I guess I've washed my hands of you and I.
No one understands, I don't know why.
Unhappy soul, eyes covered in wool.
At least my pockets are full.
Give up control, now I'm swerving too.
I probably should've stayed school.
Hey Cliff, I haven't drank in weeks.
You'd know that if you would ask.
Homeless again in just two weeks.
Of course I'm not fucking relaxed.
You needn't say a word in your defense.
I jumped your hurdles, fell, and broke my glasses lens.
I guess that you are known for being on the fence.
You could say I'm hurt, oh God, I'm tense.
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4. |
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If we could get high together maybe it would all be better.
But instead, we're stressing out over little things.
I thought maybe we could see each other, I'm sorry I don't mean to hover,
but my head is getting low. Can you help me?
I don't even have a headstone to look at anymore.
The tell-tale signs of aging. Bitter, broke, and sore.
Drink with me for one more day and I'll pour the rest down the drain.
You pity no one, you say. Then you say you feel their pain.
You don't seem empathetic, you just seem out of place.
The tell-tale signs of aging are etched into your face.
I don't even have a headstone to look at anymore.
The tell-tale signs of aging. Bitter, broke, and sore.
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Chelsea Hates Me Elgin, South Carolina
Chelsea Hates Me is an experimental solo act made for people who’ve made a lot of mistakes. I retired this project
for
freebasedpropane.bandcamp.com/releases
Because contrary to THIS stage of my life, I'm now sober, and I've started taking responsibility for what I do.
... more
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