A Total Disappointment

by ATD

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Slipt 01:25
He slipt into a black abyss, Kept falling down and disappeared. Days turned in to weeks, Weeks to months and in to years. Life just drags him along. Lost to the world, to everyone. Tired eyes force him awake, Folds in his brain swell, start to ache. Cursed! Was he born this way? Destiny? Bad luck? Fate. In the back of his mind, Scared that this could be the time. Lost, never to be found again. Lost, never to be fucking found again.
Mommy does my laundry, My room, kept neat, Every Sunday night she makes her famous roast beef. The Boomerang Kids try it on their own, It’s only a matter of time before they’re back at home. The Boomerang Kids try it on their own, They circle back around again, to the comfort of their home. Daddy takes care of the bills, The rent is free. I’m not prepared to deal with life or responsibility.
R.I.P. to privacy, they’re tracking all you do. A new world of transparency, they’re watching every move. Algorithms teaching you what you need to learn, Building unsuspecting agents, ears and eyes in your phone. Spies, Spies among us. Spies, Spies in your home. Lives no longer private, watching from your phone, At least your parents will be happy that you’re not alone. Spies. R.I.P. to sensitivity, no one feels sorry for you. A new world of ad agencies, they know just what you view. Hackers can find everything, and look right back atcha. Make sure you put a piece of tape over your laptop camera.
He’s been manning his post since he was a youth, All he knows is this life of solitude, Now he’s a cantankerous old man. Warning the ships of the perils beneath, While living on the edge of the cliffs of his sanity, He spent 50 years living in a can. His life, Gives light, Saves lives, Curmudgeonly Lighthouse Keeper. That night, He killed the lights, Took lives, Psychotic Lighthouse Reaper.
New pair of shoes, a brand new dress, Card swiped again, life for them is cheque to cheque. A plastic God, in which they trust, Unbeatable highs, they can’t seem to get enough. They’ll sell you their soul to keep the party alive, Another installment loan they will never pay on time. Each and every night, More compulsive buys. Spend it all, payment plans, Cheque to cheque, Moonlight Clan, I shop, therefore I am. Fake new tits, rock hard dicks, Flippant attitudes, parties of glamour and glitz. Their plastic Gods, another gift, Another round, this party will never quit. They’ll sell you their soul to keep the party alive, Another installment loan they will never pay on time.
Gaslighting 01:32
You see me, as your victim, a mark to sink your teeth in, To play your sick and twisted psychological games. You’re undermining my facts, you are denying your acts, Trying to break me down until I accept the blame. Gaslighting, manipulate reality, Gaslighting, don’t you try that shit with me, Gaslighting, through your brainwash I can see, Gaslighting. You’re using persistent denial and misdirection, Lying and contradicting to destabilize me. Discounting information, sow seeds of indecision, So you can trivialize, delegitimize my beliefs. You cut the heads off others to make yourself taller. You think I don’t see through your narcissistic ammo? Your manipulation and brainwashing isn’t gonna rearrange my reality. You cut off the heads of others to make yourself taller.
Poverty Row 01:44
I went outside today, took the kids out to play, The one thing that I can afford. This shit ain’t right, but still I fight, Having to work three jobs or more. I’ve got my rights, my human rights. But without fair pay I can’t make rent today. I won’t lose sight, but still I know, I’m living on Poverty Row. Woke up at 4am, head out to work again, For another sixteen hour day. I don’t make ends meet, the kids gotta eat…..so, I won’t eat proper meal today.
Let Down 01:38
We are your broken dreams, the bursting of your seams, your Mr. Inbetweens. A lock without a key, the lies that you believe, the path you cannot see. We are the evil Queen, the rebel in your teen, the broken family. We won’t let up with the let downs. Why can’t I ever get it right? We are the darkness in your light. Everything now is a fight. We are the struggle in your life. Helping hands never around. We’ll trip ya, push ya to the ground. We’re the ones that kick you when you’re down.
Good Things 01:01
You’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, With the strangest values coursing through your head. No one owes you anything, Stop waiting for the phone to ring, Go out and achieve before you’re dead. Your Facebook status won’t help you a bit. That less than eager work ethic is shit. You sit around and scratch your ass, While going nowhere really fast. Good things come to those who fucking work for it. The self entitled generation of today, They believe everything will just come their way. The real world is chomping at the bit. Good things come to those who fucking work for it.
It feels like a thousand eyes, Watching and terrorizing. It feels like a thousand ears, Listening, privacy disappearing. Paranoid It’s the state I’m in Life sentence Peak Paranoia, my patience is running thin. It feels like a thousand hands, Touching, stealing and demanding. It feels like a thousand minds, Reading, torturing and maligning.
I would sleep til noon, Eat my parents food, Smoke weed and skate all day. Skipping school, Eat junk food, Zero bills to pay. Early bird gets the worm, Second rat gets the cheese, After the adult crash, Teenage Vanities. Hitting snooze, Drinking my parents booze, Then of course, Your first taste of pussy.
Bunk Monk 02:03
He wears the robe, dons the do, waiting on the street, In the early hours of the morn to accept the peoples treats. But instead of cherishing the gifts he boldly does receive, He strips the robe for jeans and a tee and makes a mockery. Bunk Monk of Bangkok. A liar and a cheat, he’s a conman and a thief. A master of deceit He’s the Bunk Monk of Bangkok. The people give their hard earned dough, their food, sweat and blood. He pockets the cash and sells the food, this God’s a fucking fraud. The man is no practitioner, or even a novice of the belief. He drinks, he smokes, he fucks, he sings. He’s a fuckin thief.


Recorded by Jordan Koop at Noise Floor Studios.
Mixed and mastered by Shafer Carson - Kinda Cool Records.

ATD - Vancouver, Canada

Visit KindaCoolRecords.com for ATD shirts, vinyl and more!


released May 29, 2020


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Kinda Cool Records Vancouver, British Columbia

Kinda Cool Records is an independent punk rock record label from Vancouver, Canada.
Visit the official website at kindacoolrecords.com and the online store at kindacoolrecords.com/shop for shirts, vinyl and more!

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