'Captain Fantastic (not that one) and the discarded confectionary blah' a single

by Mark Wynn

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1.
03:13
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More blah from the gob that keeps getting stopped up with the back log of the interior toss and the 'fucking hell I was a prick and so were you and I'm still bloody thinking about it' which has to be ejected but this word blah here really wasn't necessary was it... Shut up... Start again... Three song blah... Just got in from gardening, all smells a bit outsidey inside here right now... Just remembered my Gran used the word mafted the other day... pleasure beach

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released 05 November 2014

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Track Name: Battenburg
first of the month can't see no sky... getting really sick of feeling this way walk away walk to the place back home from the place get stuck in the checkout queue in Boots... Feeling all the dirt from the day getting into me and all the spite and all the snide remarks... Think I'll go away someplace for a few days need to stop getting into such a state... Maybe I'll go to my mate's place in Brighton, no I'd only end up getting smashed on them free drugs... Or maybe Whitby but Whitby only makes me sentimental see, by the sea thinking about you and thinking about you, I dunno just some time alone, would you like a cup of tea...? Yes please, I like it only a certain way well make it yourself then you pedantic cunt....Dirty linen my mouth like a claggy mat, I should clean this floor I should wipe that wall I should do something about all them fag butts in the yard, I should do something about all those fag butts in the yard, but I won'r... Maybe if I did I'd have a greater sense of self worth maybe not I don't know but I do...

Fizzy.

Amusement and now a list of things I don't understand age twelve when it's raining hard and my feet are all wet - paranoia is that a dog chasing me? If it is, why's it always a dog and never a panda? Discarded reduce to clear Battenburg on a Sunday night after time at tesco's, why does that offend me so? Drunken relative what is that impulse? we are not related by choice. Drunken stranger, what is that impulse? imitate my voice in the check out queue. Soggy bread, why when wet are you less appealing than damp Battenburg? Why do I keep mentioning Battenberg in this song?

I just need some sleep. You need some sleep, she ses. I know I just said it myself I need some sleep. Battenberg and now the chorus. Mull Of Kintyre
Track Name: Captain Fantastic
The cold the nothing the blah the room that stinks of stale farts the late night tryna understand it putting it into chop chop chop manageable pieces looking at what he said she said he said about what I can't recall

The talk the nothing the blah the blah you have been listening to who cares I'll paint you a pic char dictionary six creases shit pieces of art electronic music in basement room 3.90 a schooner 'what the fuck is a schooner?' platter I should've just stayed at home nonsense

I'm pissed off, that's the chorus. I'm socially awkward, conversationally useless and obsessed with feeling inferior is also the chorus.

Yeah I'm pissed a consistant blah, drugged by mediocrity, rancour. Look at that big word I can't pronounce or spell possibly who cares (are you actually reading this?) rancour anger at peoples inability to look beyond the usual scope the machinery of it all I'm not built for it and these shoes make me feel stupid.

Yeah I'm pissed not knowing what I want how to get it complete dissatisfaction why bother why anything I forgot to by any milk, bollocks, wheat shreds and water, the colons in the wrong place. I know it is. I don't but I do, and who are you. Why why why didn't I ask for her number....

Touchy feely Mark's in a mood with me. Don't touch me, you know I don't like being touched, hence my reaction.

THings not working out, turn on the screen, feel worse for looking at the screen, too much time spent looking at the screen, the fucking screen. You been cutting your hair agen? Aye, and I would like to sleep in close proximity with she again. But I can't, it won't work, because toss becomes bland becomes toss, becomes life, becomes one foot on a stool at a Wednesday open mic night sounding like elevator music. I've just pressed a vinyl he ses to me, I hope you've got the loft space, elevator music.

Social realism, sing about a supermarket, be criticized in the music weekly no one buys anymore...

So it ends sat on a train low battery, I look forward to buying birthday cards which make slights at your age and inability to piss properly. Speaking of which I put a little dog off his pee driving home last night we came down that big hill, Garraby, it was raining, I was a bit pissed my stomach digesting that shit food we got in Brid it was your birthday I wanted what was not mine and the radio going out of tune playing out of time tune into the static and I feel devoid of sensation, Captain Fantastic...