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Happy Hour

by Paradox & P44

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1.
02:44
2.
03:41
3.
4.
05:03
5.
04:01
6.
7.
01:25
8.
9.
10.
11.
03:41
12.
01:25

credits

released November 15, 2016

All tracks produced by Paradox (T. Curran)
All lyrics written & performed by P44 (S. Perrin)
Track 6 lyrics also written & performed by Con (C. Glissman-Gough)
All cuts by DJ Tek (T. Lumia)
All tracks mixed and mastered by Ruxton (G. Tangey)
Artwork by Vic The Bitter

All recordings ℗ 2016 Paradox & P44
Lyrics, artwork, composition © 2016 Paradox & P44

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Paradox Albany, Australia

Paradox is a producer from Albany, Western Australia.

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Track Name: Intro
Yeah come on in, we’re open now ‘til four in the morning,
Y’all know the story, it’s 4.40 for pots of Rekorderlig,

Bordering on alcoholism, y’all sit up the back, keep to yourselves,
No loitering out the front, see the state that the toilets in,
No vomiting, ain’t got cash for the janitors,
Ain’t affording a proper cleaner, we just a humble watering hole,

Yo bars open, we got a shipment of bottles in,
From overseas, decent prices though, watch what you’re ordering,
Regulars, y’all shuffle up to the bar now,
Same as always, y’all sit and you pour your fucking hearts out,

Dox sending the women out, kitchen’s open for business,
I wouldn’t try anything beyond fish and chips,
It’s not our specialty, the food’s greasy but it helps the beer go down,
We these people’s local heroes now,

Forget saving the world, just pour them a glass,
They don’t care about anything beyond the backyard, and why should they,
World’s a big place, can’t keep up with it, lost on me,
So settle in and get a drink, it’s Happy Hour with Dox and P.
Track Name: What's Good?
Verse 1

Yo what’s good kids, ain’t been a minute since my last release
But Dox hit me, see if I wanna match some bars to beats
I said Para please, now we’ll leave you parapleged
44 and Dox here for that double P
But first, let me introduce myself
Since none of you gonna know my shit too well
I got that attitude cos the devil may care
Stepping off a plane with the international air
Born the same year as that Berlin Wall breaks
Spent my best years in a transnational crawlspace
With the window down, bit of treble and raw bass
Enough to make the corridors tremble and halls shake
But got bored, packed up and said my goodbyes
And let my family get on with the rest of their lives
Came back with enough stories left for the ride
Heart of a peasant, with an emperor’s mind

Chorus (x2)

We go, round and round, 'til the axis is bent
We’ll get back where we started in a chapter or ten
Run from the east coast, way back to the west
Para and Pez, P Dot & P-Dox, back in the flesh

Verse 2

So what’s good Melbourne, been a while since we got down
I’ve heard a little of political talk now
More hipsters than hippies in the city I walk round
It seems the Heart got Victory chalked out
Who cares, ain't gonna complain in the song
In any case, it ain't like I’ll be staying for long
Just here to chill for a bit, rake in the euros
A bit of brew though, get to music making with Con
We got this shit down, sorry that it’s taken so long
So when I skip town, y’all know that I’ll take it along
Yeah I’m a one-nighter, might stay for the dawn
I’ll leave a note on the pillow babe, you'll wake and I’m gone
So bugger a battle, I don’t need the stroganoff
And when I’m knocking off I don’t care how much my coffee/coffin cost,
Long as my T’s crossed and my I’s dotted off,
I’ll take my rucksack and proceed to waddle off,

Chorus (x2)

Verse 3

So what’s good world, whadup to all the avid fans
Man City to Toronto, down to Pakistan
Perth side, ADL and my Canberra fam
See you soon guys, freeway lane in a camper van
Everyone who hit my mic up with the words
South African slums to the burbs, come and observe
Chillin’ in the Legion with Grandpa Eddie
Or cracking a beer with me and Con on the tanbark, ready
For whatever the world throws at us next
‘Til it’s broken my neck, I just take the blow, resurrect
Swinging with eyes wide shut, go for the fence
Cobra connect, here though, I’m a brogan to death
Locked loaded with what won’t kill me for now
Peak hour traffic, just jammin’, chill with the crowd
So come get down with us, if you down me as Pez
P44, here with D, O to the X

Chorus (x2)
Track Name: Switchblade Romance
Got that midas touch, look for a girl with a medusa stare,
And a white Russian, got no idea what I’m doing there,
Sick of the backpacks, stand stagnant in putrid air,
It’s a rap banquet, fuck a snapback, got a suit to wear,
Only Pseudo fair, my suit’s diamond in the rough,
Pseudo care, ‘bout girls screaming diamond’s ain’t enough,
If you were there, you’d have seen me lighting up a tuft,
Of lighter fluid, I threw it down the basement of the club,
She saw me give the signal, asked the barman for the tab,
And he leaned over, so she opened his throat up with a jab,
We screamed hit the floor, let a shot fly, bodies dive,
We ducked, yelled call the cops and no one gets attacked,
Then the lead blew, red blue sirens at the window,
Heard the cops coming, so we got up on our get go,
Hit the car, speakers up, got her purse and jammed the door,
Fuck this, I’m not going to Persa anymore,

Chorus (x2)
She’s got navy-blue eyes and jet-blackened hair,
Flames in both, call her my jet-pack affair,
Makes my heart skip a beat by just standing there,
And she’s poison, not that I care, not that I care

No panic, hotel sat at the edge of the town,
Get slow back to the room, this ain’t where we’ll be found in the morning,
Motorbike on the street with her name on it, I’m hitchhiking,
Said we’d meet in Romania,
Little town that I know, up in Transylvania,
Only use the phone if it don’t endanger ya,
She knows it all, I say it though, ‘cos at her core,
I swear a little part of her wants to be caught,
She swears like Hepburn, she moves like a Batarang,
Curved and fly fast, we 2 knights, the Barrow gang,
Kalibak strength, her mind might be unbalanced man,
Battlehammer in hand, tapping out the battle plan,
We part ways, half-dazed, fucks like Xenia,
Know she’s left the parking lot ‘cos I can’t sense her,
Light a cigarette, not one second before,
Cocked gun, sped out the door before the cops come,


Chorus (x2)


Running outta down, number plates got me past the roadblock,
But now I’ve got a stolen vehicle, man if those cops,
Had had any sense, I’d be lying on the road shot,
But I’m through now, just don’t worry and don’t stop,
This is switchblade romance, a sick symphony,
So do I love her, or love chasing death, it sinks into me,
She laughs when things burns, she’s in sync with me,
Sin City, I simply crave the synchronicity,
Seems amiss to me, I hear radio reports,
Killer found dead in hotel, I take it in and pause,
Smile, even though it ain’t really how I thought,
Shit would end, the trail’s, I ain’t waiting to be caught,
Pull up at the bar where we had first met,
I should have walked right out, but it’s too tempting to flirt with death,
Fumbling with a cigar case, trying to light something,
Bar girl winks and offers me a white Russian,

Chorus (x2)
Track Name: Metro Anthem
Fuck your car, I ride metro ‘til the tram stops,
Rain delayed and trains are late cos some fucking jackoff,
Threw himself on the tracks, stopped traffic,
For the last 4 hours, now I’m late for class, with a mad prof,
German dude who thinks being late’s the worst thing since the second world war, which is ironic,
Cos this train feels like it’s about to make a gas stop,
That’s not particularly politically correct, but I’m that squashed,
Sardines in a black box,
Like a fishy dark chick’s vag, not nice, holy crap,
Five minutes ‘til we’re moving, can you back off,
Mr. Black Suit and Tie, moving by, trying to hit the platform,
Mate, you’re unhappy, but we’re all in the same spot,
In the same hot train not gonna move faster, if you ask the pleb driver why the tram’s stopped,
Fan’s not working, where’s all the air con gone,
And I’m stuck next to the world’s biggest crackpot,
Damn what’s the wait, I have not got exams what if I did, IDIOT,
I need a car ‘cos cabs cost, way too much to get to the exam hall,
Sam swore, he’s never again, getting on no public transport,

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride

Ticket inspector in my face, like can I see your ticket please,
I was 23 minutes delayed, are you kidding me?
Concession card, myki pass, wait here for a minute ‘jeez’,
I’m only fifteen minutes delayed, and there’s still at least,
A 5 minute walk to get out, then there’s about,
A twelve minute ride up to Uni, lecture’s around a three minute jog from the stop,
You’re stressing me out,
I’ve still got to fight for a seat on the tram with the rest of the crowd,
This is not validated, are you serious cunt?
It’s a fucking pass, there’s credit ‘til the end of the month,
I have ‘til May 21, maybe it’s just the machine’s fault,
They’re three weeks old, and I never have once,
Fare evaded, check the record, I know they keep it at HQ,
This is why every regular citizen hates you,
Language will get you nowhere, I can quote it in a court of law,
You are not a cop, dickhead, what you acting like a copper for,
You failed high school, that’s what those fuckwit tatts are for,
Too weak to be a bouncer and too dumb to be a janitor,
Just give me my licence and concession, I’ll be on my way I bet,
You’ll report me to the office but I ain’t paying them a cent

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride

WROTE ME A NEW HIT LIST

I've just lost patience completely with Melbourne public transport
So you know what I did? *I wrote me a new hit list*
Yeah, that's right *I wrote me a new hit list* what'd you do?
*I wrote me a new wrote me a new wrote me a new hit list* Uggh
Peter Mulder, public transport minister, *your names on it cos we got unfinished business* *wrote me a new wrote me a new hit list* yeaah yeaaah uggh
Who else? lin cosky the old one *your names on it* You know why? *cos we got unfinished business* uggggh
fuck me dead, *wrote me a new wrote me a new hit list*
Man 2007
what happened?
started uni, got this form right
What'd it say?
says something gonna come out later this year
what happened?
2013, finally starts
Uggh not cool
That's bullshit
What is it?
BULLSHIT!
So you know what I did?
What'd you do?
Know what i fucking did?
What'd you do?
Yeaaaah,
*I wrote me a new hit list*
hardcore, sitting there on the fucking platform waiting for the train to come like a chump
I can't take that shit

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride

So put your hands in the air if you can’t hold em by your side,
‘Cos the carriage too packed and we’re swaying side to side,
Hold your breath, wouldn’t bet that we’ll all make it out alive,
Nod your head, watch your step, cos we’re all in for the ride
Track Name: Rude
Been 6 days, no sunscreen, never been so burnt,
Head looking like a strawberry calypso, hurts,
Dad always told me, don’t stare at the sun, but, kept it a hundred,
Gotta know the kid don’t learn,
Seated on my arse, six weeks have gone so fast,
Couldn’t move, ‘cos of the mosquitoes in the car,
Fkn SWAT Team, hands flying, ants lining headgear,
Eating at the tax I racked up in the net year,
ATO fuckers, Pez here, let’s clear,
One thing up right now, I ain’t paying unless the sun comes up from the south,
Nothing to doubt,
Airline passengers, keep P-nuts in your mouth,
Haunted by louse, head-knocking at parliament house,
Aren’t you motherfuckers meant to be somebody else?
Rats in the pipeline, nagging me ‘bout the HECS debt,
I’m leaving the country at night-time, I couldn’t care less,

RUDE, problems, solve them now,
YOU’VE, lost it, got to bow,
OUT, of my mother’s house, NOWWWWW.
RUDE, why you guys still in my room?
I have had it maggots, MOVE,
Out the fucking system, NOW.

Who say looks can’t kill, well smells can, so tell that,
To the wicked witch west of my room, give my gel back,
I’m diving out the window into the rosebush, smell the perfume,
Pissed on the mattress, burned down the bedroom,
That’ll kill the moths, may have took it way too far but,
Mamasay, motherfuck you bastards,
I’m on the court, laying 1-2 passes, cunts too fast?
Left ‘em in a month-long plaster,
I’m too plastered, bush tucker for brekky,
Half-cooked roo, give a fuck if it’s ready, lumpy spaghetti,
Fifth blood nose in 2 days,
6’ 5” ain’t helping with the altitude change,
Fuck touch wood, Torchwood, I don’t want weevils,
Let Dox needle the pod people who won’t make pot legal,
Royal Flush, toilet’s fucked, robbed regal,
Feels like Hangover 5, the lost prequel

RUDE, problems, solve them now,
YOU’VE, lost it, got to bow,
OUT, of my mother’s house, NOWWWWW.
RUDE, why you guys still in my room?
I have had it maggots, MOVE,
Out the fucking system, NOW.
An Amex user now, I always ride with the plastic,
No dodgin’ for the Johnson, wouldn’t wanna be magic,
For this chick, dancing like she’s a spastic,
And gets pissed off when I don’t find her attractive,
All good long as the dinger don’t break when you’re busting in,
It’s like finding out Arnie’s a republican,
Best thing the doc says, it’s not a tumour,
A hard time trying to lie to the prosecutor,
Been Fleetwod Maccing girls and it’s not a rumour,
Standard, no STD section on college humour,
Sorry sir, ain’t your average hip-hop consumer,
Just an oversexed bottle user, body-bruiser, what a loser,
Got prescription for all the sickness, no disease,
Just alcohol withdrawal symptoms,
No excuse for the constant whingeing, hypochondriac, called me back,
Pez, stop your bitching.

RUDE, problems, solve them now,
YOU’VE, lost it, got to bow,
OUT, of my mother’s house, NOWWWWW.
RUDE, why you guys still in my room?
I have had it maggots, MOVE,
Out the fucking system, NOW.

RUDE, problems, solve them now,
YOU’VE, lost it, got to bow,
OUT, of my mother’s house, NOWWWWW.

NOWWWWW.
Track Name: Outta Sight (feat. Con)
P44
Come out a side-view mirror, much closer than I appear,
In that cypher intermission, I’m causing you to career,
Apache in your back seat, all of your inner fears,
I’m outta, outta, outta….

Con
We go off, on top of the soap box,
Dropping some smoke bombs on cops and their road blocks,
We’re gone, trying to stop us well so what,
You fall flat with your letters and dropped in the post box,
Been building on this since we were here with a floor plan,
Taking names like a Nigerian with broadband,
We got mysteriously sore hands and you’re red in the face,
You’re hearing the door slam before you step in the place,
And it’s never the same, Con and that Sam menace,
And by the time you get in, we’re out the back entrance,
Came for a second, and we stayed for a minute then we,
Got kicked out so we made it a living,
Understatement saying Elvis has left the building,
Leave the scene, mortgage, wife and forget the children,
And when I’m dead and gone, I’ll pay the ferry man,
Just to snatch his little raft and grab my twenty back.

P44
I set the petty caterwauling and bitching aside, I breached the divide,
Put a leash on my pride, to get my dollar back,
But it’s easy at times, to put MCs on the side,
So we left each to his pride, no one can close the gap,
Napoleon complex and midget fetishes,
6’ 5” with an ego that’ll live forever it’s,
That’s same rapper with the batcave swagger,
Give me 20 seconds make that prison gang look off of the chain,
Bring your laser tag, I’m leaving the phantom zone,
Gift-packed, remains go back, something you can carry home,
Band-aid, slap her on a mass grave, that’ll,
Cover the bodies that we hoard under the floorboard, sing it again,
Beta Ray Bill thunderclap, watch me bring summer back,
Samsung definition, son of Sam,
Underhand jab’ll make the chat stop, now you tell me,
Why the fuck, why the fuck should champions change.

Con
Shackled and chained to the back of a train,
Running it the backwards way, overtake a passenger plane,
Slap shells back in the chamber now I’m open to other suggestions,
Doing what I can to open another dimension,

P44
P and Con on a cypher leave you constantly hyper,
Got me that fire, ready to fucking body a rhymer,
One verse from P Dot,

Con
Make your apology nicer,
You thought you were fly? Let’s see you swallow a glider,
Follow the piper, I’ll lead you over the cliff,
Convince you of it’s riches you didn’t know could exist,
People look at me concerned when I’m alone on a bridge,
You’ve got nothing to worry about, that road is my bitch.

P44
This ain’t a game anymore, I’ve been fighting off the final boss,
Since 8 Mile dropped, the Titans lost and the 90s stopped,
But don’t write me off, attire robbed from the tribal gods,
Ain’t killable, I’m a killer bull in a china shop,

Con
Poke the eye of God just to get a little farther from heaven,
Close my soul to your goals now you can’t possess it,
I’d rather be tarred and feather in the Mojave Desert,
Next to a mobile phone with no bars or credit,

P44
I’m in your residency, next to your bed when your sleep,
I’m up in your head, at the end of every defeat,
I’m Mike Myers right before they sent him away,
I’m a construction worker clocking off at the end of the day, I’m outta sight….
Track Name: 1st World Problems
So I’m back home, I’ve saved up, I’m back in the black,
I need to move out, I can’t stand the family’s pad,
All these arguments we’re always fucking having are sad,
Aggy and mad, man I can’t fkn handle my dad,
So been looking for somewhere to live,
With nothing to give, but a homebrew kit and two hundred and six,
Bucks for this shit, a week’s rent, gas and the water,
Man, I can’t afford another buck for a crib,
And I’m messy as hell, don’t get me wrong, ain’t like I’m smelly,
But who wants a room that looks like New Delhi,
Each place is either too much, too far or too hard,
Feels like Goldilocks, and I gotta choose fast,
But whatever, I got my centrelink pay,
I head to a job that I like every day,
Weekends hit, man, I’ll probably be out with my mates,
Fuck it man, life’s looking better every day.

First world problems, we’ve all got them in spades,
So if you see me, I’m probably gonna complain,
Tell me to shut the hell up, ‘cos I’ve got it my way,
We all smiles, hail, sun, foggy or rain.

First world problems, we’ve all got them in spades,
So if you see me, I’m probably gonna complain,
Tell me to shut the hell up, ‘cos I’ve got it my way,
We all smiles, hail, sun, foggy or rain.

So where the women at? I swear Melbourne’s one big sausage fest,
Europe was sick man, I was like, who want it next?
But the girls here harder to meet, and can’t be as sweet,
When I’ve got an ex back in London I hated to leave,
Had a few loose hook-ups, mistakes here and there of course,
It wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t tearing up the town,
But I swear, it’s just not the same as before,
I wake up thinking shit, man, I’m sick of getting round,
Dated one chick I sparked with, heart skipped,
Next minute, ex issues, oh shit, fuck this,
She sounded like me circa 2010, and we all know what a screw up I was back then,
But who cares man, this place is full of beautiful girls,
And the last year’s been full of them all over the world,
So for the moment, I’m all good, feet keep tapping,
I shouldn’t have to force love, man I know it’ll just happen.

First world problems, we’ve all got them in spades,
So if you see me, I’m probably gonna complain,
Tell me to shut the hell up, ‘cos I’ve got it my way,
We all smiles, hail, sun, foggy or rain.

First world problems, we’ve all got them in spades,
So if you see me, I’m probably gonna complain,
Tell me to shut the hell up, ‘cos I’ve got it my way,
We all smiles, hail, sun, foggy or rain.
Track Name: Barefoot Bandits
Riding Roger Corbet in the Passenger Seat,
I’ve got a bachelor’s degree in handling a beat,
But we went too far on the bassline, snapped the brakeline,
Can’t reach the floor, and now I’m crashing off the street,
Angry with my feet, ‘cos the pedal’s going haywire,
Flashing at police, and the situation made dire,
May die an honest man, may die the lord of antagony,
You’re having me on, may die on Oberan,
Now we’re on the freeway, jumping off the Bolte Bridge,
All I wanna know is this, who the fuck would throw his kids,
Off the shit, we got them locked up in the boot,
Water? Gonna hit it soon, man, whose fucking fault is this?

We ain’t going back ‘cos we’ve come too fucking far now,
Game was dead at quarter time, ain’t seeing the half out,
There’s nobody at the wheel, flag the car down,
There’s four bodies in the trunk, so we jumped out,
We ain’t going back ‘cos we’ve come too fucking far now,
Stuck all up in the clouds and just about to pass out,
There’s no pilot in the cockpit, class out,
There’s four bodies in the trunk, so we jumped out,


So come on, country fuckers, let’s do business in a fat suit,
Eating all the time, I know that sully bumpkin had food,
From day dot, I will take what, this state’ll make in a year,
We’re burning down your houses made of bamboo,
Driving round the country with the top down in a van too,
Big for any highway so we’re jumping on the kangaroos,
I can’t hear myself, with all this thumping on the damn roof,
So I put my feet up on the wheels, and my hands too,
Hands too steady for a bevvy so we sat through,
Thirteen hours sober with a sac all full of flat goon,
iPod on jammed loop, on the same damn tune,
You can go to Brizzy, fuck it, I’m going to Cancun,
Have you seen the blow-up in the back, dude,
That was just a hooker that we’ve had since we ran through,
Three towns back and she’s all over the damn news,
Look at each other, decision to be made, and choose,

We ain’t going back ‘cos we’ve come too fucking far now,
Someone rang the boxing bell, we came in for last rounds,
There’s no Johnny so we burned the fucking bar down,
There’s four bodies in the trunk, so we jumped out,
We ain’t going back ‘cos we’ve come too fucking far now,
And if we ain’t do the deed, then why the fuck we start out,
There’s no point in doing anything but run now,
There’s four bodies in the trunk, so we jumped out,


Clock is ticking, heart is beating, head is spinning, so fast,
Gotta be the cops that we’ve been hiding from that drove past,
We can take them, we can break them, we can make it, hold fast,
I may not, have the fastest shot, but I’ll go last,
Look into my eyes, this is no disguise, road lust,
Banks are breaking, hands are shaking I’m about to go bust,
Sanity is gradually fading, and it won’t last,
I don’t even know if I’m on solid ground, horn blasts,
Snap out of the coma and I hit the fucking jackpot,
Tidal wave, I can brave the surfers and the backwash,
Hit the gas, watch meter rise, no wheel, hands off,
Run for cover motherfucker this is black ops,
Dive off of the cliffs and I watch out for the black rocks,
Services can pass the buck, surface where the bank stops,
Playing chicken with a tyrannosaur in a jag got,
2 metres away before both of us had banked off,
This wasn’t a stand-off, Mexican rules,
Man this shit was a stand-off, dead where you move,
Here tomorrow, I was there and I’m gone today,
Donc je bois mon coup de biére avec Florence Rey,
Took me for a fool, so I took them for their last ride,
Right wing’s too strong, gave them all the hardline,
Left came too far centre, only half flying,
Go to fucking hell, yes officer, the car’s mine
Track Name: Writers Block
It’s been a weird couple of months, I’ve never had writer’s block this bad,
I’m gonna lob this pad, in the fire,
Been stumbling, funds drained, chuck this fad in the recycler,
Where’s that lighter, give me some propane,
Was feeling like cocaine, chopped up, flaky and stretched,
I’m gonna David Karesh, everyone, get it done,
I’ve got flames out the pen, but can’t make any sense,
These lines won’t go straight in my head,
Go two mixtapes on the deck, Mountain Goats and some other guitar shit,
But it’s wasted cos Pez,
Can’t write a decent verse, get a theme and work hard,
But can’t keep up good rhymes and wordplay in the text,
There’s a producer on the line, he’s cool with it ‘cos time,
Normally solves this kind of problem,
But it’s been three months since P bumped out a playable track,
He’s got other shit to do, who am I to stop him,

I can’t, can’t get it out anymore, can’t get it out, can’t get it out anymore,
All stuck in my head, can’t move on ‘em, lose all them lyrics soon as I sit down to record,
I can’t, can’t, can’t get it out anymore, can’t get it, can’t get it out anymore,
All stuck in my head, can’t move on ‘em, lose all them lyrics soon as I sit down to record.


Walking home from the station, might be listening to Nas,
Illmatic, keep at it, then suddenly a bar hits me,
Half-dizzy, repeat the track, yeah it starts with me,
Throw an idea out, comes back, nothing changes,
Man it’s like Frisbee, I’ve had writer’s block before,
But never when the going was this good,
And Dox ain’t no doc, can’t write me up some sort of prescription, for this affliction,
No urine test for being this pissy,
We 8 tracks deep in the album son, god knows I’ll be so stoked when the album comes,
All our work this time, might start selling some,
But I can’t get a fucking lyric out, GET IT DONE,
Skip James is a classic, slept on heavy style,
But I feel like I’m starting every second track with “it’s been a while”,
It’s just pressure, I see these patterns in my head,
I just wanna use them, but they won’t leave my fucking pen,
Track Name: Happy Hour
I’ve never wrote a single word for anyone but me,
And I put it on every track, for everyone to see,
Be that Pied piper, if you like it, get in, come with P,
And we can all go sail away in my yellow submarine,
In my merry, sunken dream, I would dearly love to be,
Underseas, and agree, we can all just hit the weed,
Visions of Gandhi, hey Mister Gaddhafi,
Fuck the dishes let’s party,
No reason to start me, where’s my missus, fix me a sarnie,
Lit up the Barbie, no doubt I’m singing in Farsi,
All-comers welcome, Icelanders to Iranis,
Never had the attention span for a pension plan,
Fuck my super, Pez fly to Budapest to spend a grand,
And I’ll be good for 3 hours, we power rangers,
Amazes the strangers how freedom changed us,
So let go of inhibitions, without them, can’t chain us,
Happy in my hoodie, who wants to be famous?

We ain’t come far, but we’re still young now, though we’re only getting older,
We’ll have it figured out by tomorrow, who cares if the nights are getting colder,
We ain’t come far, but we’re still young now, though we’re only getting older,
Never forget where we came from, got no idea where we’re going to.

See this is something I trust, it’s up and above a hobby,
Now I’m fucking in love, I can’t get enough, and now it’s got me,
Buckling up, it’s just for the rush,
I think I’m gonna struggle to comes to terms with the furniture,
But who gives a fuck, I ain’t in it for the long run,
I’m just here to live every minute to the limit ‘til I’m gone son,
On some carpé noctem type of life plan, I stand,
6’ 5” and not worried about a life plan,
I can do anything I want, ‘cos I’ve been Budapest to Udaipur,
Everywhere I’ve gone, felt a spark, left my mark, connected and it’s on,
Only really live December ‘til November, then I’m gone,
So as the years roll away, I’ll think about the olden days,
One hand on the door, trying to keep growing old at bay,
Table full of memories, staring at a fold away,
But who cares, it’s 2012 and I’m only 24 today….

We ain’t come far, but we’re still young now, though we’re only getting older,
We’ll have it figured out by tomorrow, who cares if the nights are getting colder,
We ain’t come far, but we’re still young now, though we’re only getting older,
Never forget where we came from, got no idea where we’re going to.