Ketchup

by Not Enough

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03:37
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04:17

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released August 2, 2016

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Not Enough Vancouver, Washington

My main bandcamp is at toomuchband.bandcamp.com.

This will be where I upload my rock stuff.

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Track Name: Two Vegan Sausages
My after-breakfast coffee serves more than one function.
Which is not limited to the shakes and a rapid countdown.
This miracle drug does not in fact uncover the compression that I've always lacked.
I keep nice and snug behind this reflective contraption of which I keep staring at, but nothing ever looks back.
So I trade it for the two way kind,
and yet I pack my bags I still manage to stay blind
and ask for a description from behind.
Although half of it's in rags, the other has a good mind.
Do I like us in a bind?
Or do I refuse to sign on the line,
so after years of struggling, I
I finally inherit the glass.
And find I'm not sleeping so I evict my ass.
I get a better look just to write this book.
And maybe, just maybe, so that I don't find myself crazy.
And maybe I'll be associated with the greats.
Nah, who am I kidding?
I'll be in a casket.
Crammed up here and will have never gave a shit.
Track Name: That's A Really Weird Ass
Every time I close my eyes,
much more becomes alive.
The shackles that always were deprived become a sphere of lies.
Every day I wake and brood on why they cannot be in lieu.
Everything is grey or blue,
I would guess until I die, but
Every time I dare to dream, my inhibitions seem to flee,
jungle turns to rotten sand and all that's left is we.
Every time I turn my head,
I see what you have said.
I hear my flying dull grey bed arriving just as planned.
Every time I feel alive,
I'm whisked away from all these lies,
and open up my weary eyes,
to face my shades that are deprived.
Every time I close my eyes is every time I feel alive,
and every time I shoo these lies is every time I die.
Track Name: Piece Piece
Infuriation, intimidation, intelligent design.
The Calvary gallops alongside a narcissistic version of me across the seven seas.
The countries trampled, up and leave due to an undervalued sense of foresight.
Eleven nights and thirteen days he had to walk barefoot across tundras and levitating crop.
Driving in and out of southern California to undermine my authority.
This abhoration grins ear to ear.
I'll make this a permanent image.
Blasting this fasting of a lasting permeation inside my station of creation.
A mother-like patient looks me in the eyes and speaks, though I cannot hear.
All sound has left me and a time-lapse of light circles the pit directly behind her head.
The sun outside does me a favor in settling my stomach.
Track Name: Underoathello
I'm not a killer.
He provoked me and I answered.
Encircled and outnumbered, so the leader I lured.
And alone I made him dissipate.
Afterwards I was alone among thousands.
Purposefully isolated.
Not an ally and no friends.
I guess I was bated.
Or maybe called to greatness.
And so I answered with a yes.
Not for them, but for the test.
My soul died and left my body a mess.
The simulations were fun, friends and all, but tense and tall.
Until they were done, when my body, mind, and soul collapsed.
After we won.
Tricked into being a hero,
I didn't want this, didn't ask for it.
Not one person is below me,
so in exile I fly towards a pit where my enemies forgive and ask,
for my empathy betrays,
and in their glory I'll bask when our cultures mix ways.
Track Name: Hamsters
Spin the wheel and hang on.
Fixation on the empty void,
until the early dawn.
168 degrees on this compass with only 3 for nostalgia.
I bleed formaldehyde and exhale hops.
I breathe in genocide and piss out cyclops.
I swear I have plans, I swear that I can make it.
But what will others think of me?
This comfy sofa swallows me whole.
But what will others think of me?
I swear I have plans, I swear that I can make it.
This comfy sofa swallows me whole.
I wish my life was that exciting.
Ride the circumference in the Z direction toward the base of this megaphone so my voice throws me out.
No one's at the fucking window, I can shit in peace,
but the empath tells me otherwise.
Grab those scissors and cut off my strings,
so I can swat these spectators like flies.
I'm so tired of doing this every day.
Spin the wheel and hang on over and over.
I swear I have plans, I swear that I can make it.
This comfy sofa swallows me whole.
I wish my life was that exciting.
Ride the circumference in the Z direction toward the base of this megaphone so my voice throws me out.
I'm so fucking done.