cancer

being a cancer should be a condition. the bleeding whiny heart of society. always feeling like the victim in every situation. I mean, it's all complete bullshit and you know it, but you always feel it. You have to keep you head above your own pity or you'll end up looking like an ass in almost any atmosphere. I just realized a lot of people around me view me in this light. Oh well, they can keep on thinking what they want. Faith may be able to move mountains but it can not change anyone's mind. So my faith in humans will still march on, but it prolly won't change anyone's opinion of me.

Thoughts I know are true

I think I want to write super catchy music. Music that everyone can enjoy. I want to write music that in five years, I won't think is ridiculous. I have never been overly aggressive guy so why would any hostility come across in the music I create. I know why, and it's really simple. You grow up hearing things and feeling things, sooner or later all of that emotion is going to come out in any form it can. So my lyrics are stereotypically passive-aggressive or straight out pissy. I've grown into a artist that expresses his inner fat kid feelings. I let people walk all over me when I have a lion locked away in my chest and I have the key in my hands. Why? I want to break the f**king cycle. Heal me hands, my strength is the only that I can rely on.



CRH

bloom till it hurts

bloom till it hurts
stretch till your fingers pass the tree tops
when other vegetation becomes jealous
leave the mowers running hard at your feet

leave the labels for canned goods
cause I'm a living breathing thing
don't make an assessment till you see me
preserved and waiting on your shelf

maybe some day, a garden won't seem so threatening
and when you're plants are leaning hard towards the sun
your first thought won't be regrow for failure

Piss on bed sheets

literally I'm out if being cool is in
I'm older, not wiser, responsibility is just an illusion for comments passed under work tables

Grammar, gentleman's rules, and all that mispelling
can go straight to hell
the deepest region that drag-ass Lucy-fer has

I'm a little tired of this and that
cause that isn't me, and this is just an inverted image of you

piss on bed sheets, pillow cases, and pajama pants
when I sleep, I won't care anymore

that funny looking dude in the sky

Anger is not the best suit to wear to a wedding
although it might get you through the door
some might agree with me, force is rape
so when I say, "you're being rude by even asking"
take the ominous broken broken bottle being waved at your throat as a hint
I'm not the best at swallowing the religious abuse

Chords, Clangs, And Misinterpreted BS

So this is my first blog on this beast of a site. It's a trendy bus to jump in front of. so is not using commas and ending sentences with prepositions.

My band just recorded it's first album and I'm already feeling regrets on choices made in the studio. I haven't even heard a rough copy of the material, besides what I heard while tracking vocals, and I keep thinking back on the amount of energy that went into the writing. What seemed like a long time to us was most likely a very short time. A month and a half from shows is hell to the boys in Latin For Truth. Though we're horrible live, we enjoy shows. Speakin' of what we enjoy, I really enjoy the blank stares when we're on the bill with a bunch of brutal bands that make my band look like kittens swatting at a dandelion. I'm not a kitten swatting at a dandelion, I'm a motherf**king bear picking gosh darn salmon from the heavily flowing stream. That stream being an over-infested scene, full of hairspray, camo shorts, and a very unhealthy addiciton to myspace. I want lft to just jump on the huge wave of bands that blow up over myspace. one click turns into four, four turns into twenty, twenty turns into one hundred.. BOOM, pete wentz is asking if FOB can open for us. I'm not really being serious, or am I? Are we just another band trying to get our peepee's sucked or are we trying to just find a way to make a living off what we love. Are we the preachers on tv asking people to pay for a prayer or your local guy just asking to feed his family and do what his heart knows is right. Fifty percent bullshit, fifty percent sincerety. All the way down the line. You'll always have to either A. know me or B. be really amazing at guessing.

Signing off,
Charles Birchfield