Shrug Dealer (2021 Remaster)

by Shrug Dealer

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Scratch it out and try again. I don't deserve this stupid pen. I've written these words over 15 times. There's that voice inside my head, "You won't amount to anything!" I've gotten to know that sentiment so well. It's okay. I'm not freaking out. "You're freaking out!" Don't think, just write shit down. This incoherent mess. I spill my guts as I digress between my tangents and I guess I've lost my mind. "You won't amount to anything!" Try to get a thought-"NO!" I don't think so. Watch my inner critic grow. Scratch it out and try again. I want to break this fucking pen. I hear that voice inside my head. I won't amount to anything. I've written these words over 25 times. It's okay. I'm not freaking out. "You're freaking out!" Don't think, just write shit I'm not okay. I think I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out. Don't think, just write shit down.
As triggers draw near. A manic Frontier. Graves we dug too deep to fill, and mountains made of this molehill are seen from every horizon, as definitions widen. There'll be no resurrection from a vile imperfection. Tell me now. Who is offended. Let your wounds be mended No need to apprehend those fiends who spit foul words Shallow attempts to sting your nerves. It's a mistake to give it weight, but we act up and don't think straight. Painting your kettle cold and clear. Shallow, pointed words make you sound insincere, and your convictions show as your walls start to bow. Say it's enough, or your cubbyhole will crack and fall flat under your bluff. As triggers draw blood, they await your rebut. Intentions not to win, but just to stir conflict again, so tell me now. Who is offended? Have them reprimanded. Taking full advantage of echo chambers built backhanded Images produced by Erised. Labor of ego induced and thinly spread. Paint your kettle cold and clear. Your words so insincere Your convictions start to show, as your walls start to bow Say it's enough, or when you can't attack, you will crack. And flat under your...
Hard pass on Mom and Pop to walk through sliding double-doors. Oppression lines the shelves as big-box dollars tip the scales. It's not alright. Another one closed down today. "Free Market", "Democracy" Buzzwords allow monopoly and lay way to bankruptcy. How can you compete when the other guy cheats? Generations look for work, as options become few and far between these bogus fucking cogs, just multitudes of useless tools. This is no grand prediction. Just casual observation. I'm breaking my back to relate to playing fair, not legislate. While I search for sympathy, Hugo Bosses piss on me. And how can we compete when the hand that feeds over-eats? Clearance racks filled with garbage made from tortured hands worked into early graves. Bottom bucks brought by slavery from foreign lands just to throw it away.
When I get back home, I'll post a status from my phone about worker exploitation on my device made from children. If I could confront myself, I'd see I'm not doing much to help at all.
The Lanes 02:01
When I'm out of my elements. When the winds of change and consequence force me to rear my ugly head and say, "I've had enough." When I try to vent it out, but the burn of the cold cuts through my mouth, then I know that I don't know a thing of letting come what may. So I define the growing pains of facing self-deprecation. Unchecked and enabled by my fears and frustrations. If this message is true, I'm not strong enough to carry these bags. I've made mistakes, but I believed in myself. No lessons to learn, stay in your lane. "Do you believe in yourself? Because you shouldn't believe in yourself." I don't need my elements. Let the world put its weight on my chest, and I'll find a way to breathe. You won't make an example of me. I know the growing pains of self-deprecation, and that they give way to sheer determination. Let this message be known you can't keep me (down). I'll carry these bags. I've made mistakes, but I believe in myself. No one can take these bags away. I believed in myself. The lanes, painted black and white, fade to grey. I believed in myself. I still believe, and you can't take that from me.
Who's Molly? 03:19
I've seen good cognizance and common sense dethroned, cut, and pressed with bad intent. Can you see the logic through my ignorance? I'm coughing up the fingers in my mouth. Praying it won't go south, where the world would drown me out. Time slows down. I'm 3,000 away, and more than 2 hours ahead of the clock inside your head. Stir crazy and dormant, studying The Informant. Hope it's not too late, and that you don't find yourself wrinkled into place in this state. Time Slows Down Hoping for good words and something to confirm. Can I expect you to come back down to earth? 'Cause If we lost you, it wouldn’t be the first. Excuse me for acting so concerned.


released March 19, 2021


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Shrug Dealer New York, New York

Loud, fast, melodic NYC punk/hardcore band.

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