1. |
HALF-POLTERGEIST
04:35
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Everything's going downhill from here,
and I'm getting so sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I haven't slept in weeks...
Every day when I wake up I'm thrust back into an existential crisis.
My days are already planned out before I even reach the bathroom door - No surprises.
I'll just lie there paralysed for ten more wasted minutes - It makes no difference.
Everythings going downhill from here,
and I'm getting so sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Nothing left to save, nothing left to love.
Five days a week, I'm sleeping with my eyes wide open.
Everytime I look in the mirror I just see a reflection of failures.
but the Jokes on you this time because I don't have much of a spirit left to break.
Just a daydream fantasy so mundane, I can't even remember my own name.
Nothing left to save, nothing left to love.
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2. |
DIMINISHING RETURNS
03:57
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My body is a worn out machine in a junkyard of broken things.
Everytime I try to build it up, it keeps shutting down twice as strong.
I wasn't present during the design phase anyway - Is it a feature or a bug?
Everytime I try to build it up, it keeps shutting down twice as strong.
The light fades faster and the darkness gets darker.
This isn't my world and I don't belong here.
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3. |
DAILY REFUTATIONS
02:41
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Invert my daily affirmations,
None of them worked out anyway,
I'm out of shape, I'm always tired,
There's nothing left here to be admired.
This is the house of lonely men,
Void of family, void of friends.
At 35 I'll be welcomed in,
Full of venom, rot and spite and sin.
This is the house of lonely men,
Void of family. Void of friends.
This is the house of broken men,
A slow decline, a long descent.
Spitting filth, spewing bile,
All their clothes have gone of style,
They can't remember their children's names,
and they always have someone else to blame.
They all just missed that big promotion,
Intoxicated and scraping by...
This is the house of broken men,
and I see myself in every one of them.
These are the mewling doors, left hanging from the hinge.
These are the hallways filled with smoke.
This is the sodden paper, peeling off the walls.
This is the roof that's always caving in.
These are the rotting floorboards, strewn with creeping mold,
Here is the ceiling that’s always leaking.
These are the windows; broken glass and boarded up.
This is the house of broken men.
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4. |
CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG
06:27
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I’ll keep cutting out my tongue, Every time I try to speak,
It feels like such a natural response by now,
My eyes roll even harder into the back of my skull.
It feels like such a natural response by now,
If you think you’ve passed your prime, I’ve certainly passed mine.
A disappointment so familiar - it feels normal now.
If you think you’ve passed your prime, I’ve certainly passed mine.
A disappointment so familiar - it feels normal now.
Thread after thread, we pull apart at the seams,
It feels like such a natural response by now,
I no longer have the stomach to nod vacantly and politely,
It feels like such a natural response by now,
I’ve long outlived my relevance
(We’ve long outlived our relevance)
Staring out at grey clouds, grey buildings and grey waters.
I'm little more than a drinking problem with slowly greying hair and rapidly greying thoughts.
The time of day keeps racing forward and I still achieve nothing,
and I will continue to achieve nothing by walking through the day in reverse.
Trapped between two walls that keep crumbling inward,
It Crashes down on everything I should have been and crumbles into everything I will not be.
It's hard to focus my eyes through this dust and debris, a choking greying mist that just won't lift.
Are those greying clouds, greying buildings and greying waters beginning to grow darker?
Or is it me?
Perhaps I'm the choking greying mist that just won't lift...
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5. |
EXPIRATION DATE
03:12
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My will no longer feels like that of my own,
My failing brain and aging body respond in incoherent moans,
Always staring off into the middle distance,
I feel every day of my age.
Unaware, if I am even aware or unaware,
I feel every day of my age.
Ache over ache, doubt over doubt,
I feel every day of my age.
Minute over minute, hour after hour,
I feel every day of my age.
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6. |
THE MODEL CITIZEN
03:18
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THE MODEL CITIZEN
I'm a work-in-progress, I am no-one's first choice,
I'm a bad investment, I'm a third place, bronze-medal-winner at best,
I'm a half-written punchline, I am anxiety positive,
I am body negative. I am a work-in-progress.
(Expel me from myself)
I am a non-essential worker
I am a non-essential human being.
I am one too many beers on a work night.
I am a bargain bin deal that no one wants nor needs.
I am dark matter that keeps growing darker and fatter.
I am a false positive surrounded by half truths.
I'm a work-in-progress, I am no-one's first choice,
I'm a bad investment, I'm a third place, bronze-medal-winner at best,
I'm a half-written punchline, I am a monumental letdown.
I am junk food, I am a work-in-progress.
(Expel me from myself)
I am a sick bag of useless thoughts and bad ideas.
I am the red clothes thrown into the wash with the white clothes.
I am a waste of renewable energy and resources.
I am a waste of non-renewable energy and resources.
I am a waste of human waste.
I am a waste of human waste.
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7. |
CATACOMB, SWEET HOME
02:26
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I'm phasing out a little longer just to drown out the dullness.
I'm screaming a little louder just to drown out the boredom,
Home is nothing more than a disappointing memory now,
That house was always haunted and we never even noticed.
There's nothing left to save and nothing left to love.
I haven’t slept in weeks.
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MODEL CITIZEN Tallinn, Estonia
MODEL CITIZEN.
Estonian/Scottish Power-trio.
The sound of
crippling anxiety and existential dread.
.
Annoying anti-rock for those who are trapped in the daily grind of the nine-five routine.
.
modelcitizennoise@gmail.com
... more
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