ATMO TRAIL

JAM BAXTER

2017

I'm not talking to you anymore

I sit around and watch the rain
Nothing's changed but it's not the same
Going west, stress on the brain
Fuck your rent off copper chain

That empty feeling in your chest
As a Happy Meal I was still depressed
Skip the test, chill and rest
Found some money and an old coat, think I'm blessed
If it isn't me and it isn't you
What the fuck's going on then, give us a clue
I don't even know, if I even know
I don't need to go, but I need to go
One too many, hobbled home

Regretful speech on a dog and bone
Convince yourself you don't give a fuck

Made your best shit in a rut
I'm going in, I'm giving up

Pray for change in the cup

Shake it empty, fill it up

Take your last toke, flick the butt
Life's a bad joke but I'm laughing

There's more mistakes to make up in acting
Cut an atom up, time to rebuild

G.O.D. build

Looking at the cuss like he's weak-willed
But the weed's milled
He said he couldn't hack it but climbed a steep hill
Just to reach chill
The sudden racket, hush, life can be chilled
Keep still

There's nothing on his mind but he seems thrilled
I want my rum and ice and my beef grilled

Belly full of pub grub
I put it in her mouth like glug glug

And I don't really like the club but
"Ippida, ippida, amin" like Yung Fuck

I say yeah but I don't understand
Don't judge me, I'm a dumb farang
And then it hit me like Clubber Lang
I just need a nice place for my nuts to hang

I'm hitting on my brain with a bunch of LEDs

My mind's made up but my thoughts won't let me leave
Close the door, bolts are shook, I don't care
Middle fingers in the air, we ain't going anywhere, nah
I don't really wanna wild out (wild out)
You can see us from a mile out (right out)
All you hear the people saying is "what's that?"
You can't really wear the style out (never)
So we're whipping the pot (whipping it, whipping it)
Out on the deck (whipping it, whipping it)
Tipping the yacht

With an ice pick on my neck

With an ice pick on my neck
With an ice pick on my neck
Tipping the yacht
With an ice pick on my neck

With an ice pick on my neck
With an ice pick on my neck

Tipping the yacht
With an ice pick on my neck

Born killer in a cockpit
Fumbling around for his off switch

Lost in the desert, head buried in the sand
Part man, part ostrich
Yeah, I couldn't understand it at first

Slip through the cracks in the earth

Shell-shocked sheep on the front line
Tongue-tied, driving a tank in reverse
Yeah, that's you, shit, who knew?
The whole crew of builders that follow me around
With the drilling tight and them mighty screws
That trigger ain't gonna pull itself

You're dumb enough to do the honours and
You can flaunt your form as the undead
Blood flecked new colossus
You, the human mollusc
I'm done buying beef from these booky shotters
Bear man mask their lickest demeanor
Looking like bait off-duty coppers

You're still sniffing that dirt

Best girl in your section
Her lips were a pointless invention
She used them to poison her henchmen
Yeah, pale face, oily complexion
Stack grams in your bedroom
Too much of an old miser to spend 'em
Yeah, so I blame my thoughts on an evil twin
Tracksuit made of asbestos, breathe it in

I'm in too deep, and man can't even swim
All these kids wanna ride my wave
But they can't paddle out with a bleeding limb
Putting ears on my bedroom door
All you hear is a squeaking spring

I grab life by its reptiles
Suck out the organs and eat the skin