Aging Quickly
Aging quickly, yet thrashing still/ How long can I make it last/ You’d think maybe I’ve had my fill/ of playing music that’s always fast/ I’ve heard the suggestions many times/ of toning it down just a bit/ How I waste my talent/ playing spastic, unpopular shit
I have no desire in life to play music that fits into the mainstream/ Maybe when I’m older, I won’t feel the same way, but I’m old as fuck now and little has changed
The same advice has been given before/ Thank you for your concerns/ Of how to attract money and whores/ When will I ever learn…/ that playing hardcore for years on end/ Is a financial disaster plan/ I’ll never have a girlfriend/ Unless I join a cover band
I’m one of those idealists who thinks some things in life should just never change/ Like the bare bones aggression in underground music/ That I wouldn’t have in any other way
This is my outlet/ In which I can be myself/ No fake accents/ Trying to be someone else/ Putting on make up/ Uncomfortable, trendy clothes
I want nothing to do with it; playing weak-ass shit/ Most of what’s “indie” just doesn’t do it for me/ The term independent means nothing to these bands/ They’d sign to a major if only given a chance
Rock star looks, rock star attitudes/ Hip, cool clothes, meaningless tattoos/ Your existence… nothing more than a trend/ Social status seeking scenesters, when will it end
I’m aging quickly/ I’m aging quickly/ I’m aging quickly and yet I still thrash
I’m aging quickly/ I’m aging quickly/ I’m aging quickly and still playing hyper fast

Worthless
Worthless, worthless to this world, medical conditions rendered my life as shit/ Useless, useless to care anymore, I can’t help but feel I want this over with/ Excuses, I’m fucking sick of excuses, the pathetic reasons I can’t do what I want with my life/ Frustration, frustration builds and builds and I feel myself slipping out of my mind
I hate my life and I want this to end (repeat)
Dependent on handouts, prescription medications/ Pissed off and stressed out, dismal living situations/ Sentenced to poverty and to fucking loneliness/ Dreaming of a future, yet actually waiting for death

Your Death
On the clock, the calls never cease/ Blood runs like rivers, soaking the streets/ Ten days a month, twenty four hours a day/ I am summoned to take your remains away
Death… my living/ Death… my Job (X2)
Each call is another body to retrieve/ Horrific messes of tragedies/ Bags of entrails to drop off/ Just like time, the death toll never stops
Death… my living/ Death… my Job (X2)
Beckoning of the pager and the cell phone/ A case of domestic violence explodes/ Angel of death scatters the bodies/ Once full of life, now just nobodies
For me, a crime scene is another mess to clean/ Bodies to transport, more trips to the morgue/ More blood, brains and hair, more cold blank stares/ More maggots and more ants, another pair of shit-filled pants/ More violent homicides, more sloppy suicides/ Booze filled accidents, scooping brains off pavement/ Emotions to hold back, eventually become detached/ From darkened reality in order to keep my sanity
Gun violence keeps me employed/ My paychecks are lives that are destroyed/ I keep a blindfold around my heart/ when I pick up your head that’s been blown apart
Murder!
It keeps me housed, clothed and fed
Drunk driving! Drug dealing! Domestic violence! Blatant fucking negligence!
These are my means to an end/ There is no need for me to pretend/ I need people like you to fucking die/ So I can continue to live my life
More homicides, more suicides, more violent rage, more old age
Your death… my living/ Your death… my job (x2)

At War with Myself
Where does it come from/ Pessimistic beliefs/ Expectations of failure/ With little hope or relief/ Visions of the future/ Engulfed in dark shades of grey/ Self-fulfilling prophecies/ Culminating in my dismay
I am at war… I am at war with myself (x2)
I am at war… I am at war
With a stubborn asshole that refuses to change his ways/ Ingrained in my identity since the beginning of my days/ A debilitating virus that pollutes all I think and feel/ An intangible enemy that couldn’t possibly be more real/ Disgusting myself with age old cycles and foolish thoughts/ Caught up in a pattern of self defeat that never stops
Leaving this disease behind/ No longer hosting this parasite/ Seeing through different eyes/ Learning to appreciate life (x2)

Muckhead
My friends and acquaintances lead normal lives; they all have homes, careers, assets, and their kids and wives
We relate to each other well, our conversation is good; we shoot the shit about music or people in the neighborhood
But I am separate and I still am different/ Can’t get my shit together, I was born to be forever… Muckhead, I am Muckhead, I am Muckhead, I am Muckhead, I am…
Unconcerned with society and its norms that have been placed on me
Pride in abnormality/ Underdog sensitivity /Mainstream is out/ That’s what muck’s about/ Living life absolutely free (x2)
Muck is not so much about punk, I could give a shit about silly fashion/ Belting out my violent lyrics is my only skill and passion/ Financial success has avoided me and I’ve accepted how it will be/ You think I’m weird, I could give a fuck, I was formed in the gutter, I am Muck
Pride in abnormality/ Underdog sensitivity/ Mainstream is out/ That’s what muck’s about/ Living life absolutely not as a beggar, but not as a chooser, born to lose, but not a loser/ It’s not that I don’t give a shit, I was just born in a world in which I don’t fit

Time Bomb
When might I just get to the point in which I happen to fucking break/ When my failures and limitations are just a little bit more than I can take
I’m just a ticking time bomb and I’m waiting for that final humiliating defeat/ Before I walk out that front door naked and blow my head off in the middle of the street
When might I get to the point in which I happen to fucking snap/ From working another low-wage job, begging and pleading for left over scraps
Because I’m just a ticking time bomb, waiting for that final humiliating defeat/ Before I walk out that front door naked, blow my head off in middle of the street
The dirty apartments that I strive to live in/ They make me realize that I haven’t come far in life, I realize I haven’t come far in life/ Another year as an under the poverty line citizen/ Realize that I haven’t come far in life, I realize that I haven’t come far in life/ The levels I’ve lowered myself to barely make money/ Realize I haven’t come far in life/ I’ve started over so many times, it isn’t even fucking funny/ Realize that I haven’t come far in life, I realize that I haven’t come far in life
Realize… it makes me realize, I have to realize, I tend to realize
Far in life, I haven’t come far in life, I haven’t come far in life, I haven’t come far in life  at all
The cycle repeats itself again and again/ Realize that I haven’t come far in life, I realize that I haven’t come far in life/ The spastic bands that I get to play in/ That’s why I live life.