FROM 'HOME OF THE PARANOID', OUT NOW https://psychicsex.bandcamp.com/album/home-of-the-paranoid ||||||||||||||||||||||||| LYRICS Put the teenagers on patrol Every man an officer his own Broken streets that keep us thin Don’t have no passport Lost my wallet before they took us in And I just want it all to end Sunshine, anytime Take the heat away Tear apart the camp again Kick the dead ones out and take whatever you can I might collapse if I see the sun again Don’t have no passport I can’t let them find me like this Sunshine, burn away the evil Burn away the selfish Burn away the ego Sunshine Sunshine Just a little sunshine What I wouldn’t give for some Sunshine Just a light Just a little light Put the teenagers on patrol Don’t have no passport Let’s see how long this goes ||||||||||||||||||||||||| ABOUT 'HOME OF THE PARANOID' This is the junction where inspiration fails and words reflexively surface. This music was written sporadically during a period of delirium brought on by accidental mismanagement of my type 1 diabetes. This is a record made under duress. In sickness, really. Poisoning myself, but seemingly also fending off infection from cultural and political forces beyond my control. It should be obvious that many of these songs were written during (and directly address) the run-up to the 2016 American election. My poems are full of contradictory statements and polyphonic voices. Reeling as my body failed (much like reason around me), I tried my best to gather my thoughts and project them in a way that made sense. This is a brainchild of demos from the distorted world. May it find you as despondent, confused, and frantic as this poetry found me.