1. |
Broken Lightbulb
02:23
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I’ve got a lot of stress going on in my head, sometimes I wonder if life would be easier from bed,
I don’t refuse the self-abuse, a manic search for use, for a brain too battered and bruised, that is scattered and confused
i work myself so hard to the point it’s gone too far, if i keep picking the same wound then yes, its bound to scar.
And what does it say to you, when you hear of self-abuse, a mad man with a guitar and broken attitude and a shitty parachute? Fall from altitude, till you smash to the ground and take a look around, where’s the light where are the words? what the fuck has become of your work?
These words may splash like blood onto a page, my brain is slashed open till my prose are as good as I claim, but I know I’ll never meet my own standards that’s the problem with a broken brain, my favourite thing is the world, it's never satisfaction only pain.
Because perfectionism is never perfect, even if you do great your mind will still hurt itself.
Selfish, melt it down to its core, tear your notebooks into pieces till they lie on the floor, an exposed heart and soul in words that were once adored, just five minutes after writing, a head, a bloody war
You will never write like you did before, why are you still doing this anymore,
If you’ll never make it what's the point in trying? Oh look at you now, pathetic, curl up, ball, crying,
I’ve assessed it, a bruised fist, a cut wrist, a dumb shit,
You’re worthless and wordless, a freak from a circus,
You would die from a lack of attention if it wasn’t for bipolar circulation
Switching moods, what’s the use, you should just end your life, everyone would be happier,
If you stick around people will just grow to hate you, it’s only gonna get crappier,
There’s no light, it’s just spite, fuck your life, you fucking parasite,
You’re a leech with shit speech and goals you’re never going to meet,
So just give up now.
You’re never gonna be proud.
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2. |
Helpless
01:39
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I struggle to write songs about these days / 'cause I'm never sure what words to say /
And I struggle to write songs about anything other than you / but I know it's something I've got to do /
And I know, that you know, that I'm not worth much / And I know, that you know, that I miss your touch
And I know, that you know, that I am helpless / 'cause you know, as well as I do, that I am worthless
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Pip Summers Southampton, UK
Pip Summers is a Southampton-based folk-punk artist, focusing on writing the best songs and playing the best gigs she
can.
If you'd like to get in contact to ask a question, book a gig or just say hi you can email her at pipsmusics@gmail.com
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