Pobrecito

by Self Neglect

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1.
01:33
2.
3.
02:09
4.
02:01

about

pobrecito
noun
a. diminutive of pobre; poor thing.

track list
i. wreck
ii. bad by michael jackson
iii. the wind
iv. punk house

band
mr. mayor, magic matt, ronnie danger, fat leon

recorded by self neglect on hellbert

art by vlad

thanks to vlad + the people who gave their support
to GRC in the early days

credits

released November 18, 2016

tags

license

Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

about

Self Neglect Albuquerque, New Mexico

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Track Name: Wreck
I feel a wreck,
I feel the pull of nothing at all.
Gender and sex,
identity approached like a choice between bathroom stalls.

And if I seem to fit,
it's because I fucking lied,
and if you see nothing wrong with it,
your hands are fucking tied.

Give me burnt buildings,
open wounds, ruined cities.
Shadows cast by flame,
every destruction without name.

Open up your mouth,
disgust yourself with what comes out,
I wish it was blood because what I'm saying is so much worse.

I would kill the world for $3 and someone to love,
all because I hate my job,
all because I had to wait in traffic.

Give me one reason to live.
Track Name: Bad by Michael Jackson
This place is bad,
your heart is bad,
what have you done to make it better?
When the booze runs out you'll tear each other apart.

I don't want to be a part of your 'we'.
I don't want to be a part of group identity.
Another day drowning in anxiety.
Get the fuck away from me.

This place is bad.

I myself am a vast desert,
an unbroken landscape of waste and heat,
and when you find that out I hope you stay away from me.

This place is me.
Track Name: The Wind
The wind walked across the floor to where I was lying,
And I swear it took the form of something else.
Hidden in the dark, a cloud that blocked the stars,
a force of constant consumption finds itself.

Heat rises from the basement,
but by the time it arrives,
just a breeze.

Instead slinking low across the floor,
a common spider or nightmare,
just a draft under the door.

The soft scalp will yield
caking nails with skin
an oily powder birthed
by the notion of long hours spent alone.

It drags on before me
without having been lived.
This fear models premonition
in its infancy.

A broken organ not yet built.

An advantage yet to come.

For now just a sense that I am where I’m not.
Track Name: Punk House
Hentai wilting in the rain,
dog shit and music,
you can’t breathe life into a corpse that’s begun to stink.
Why hold a hand that hates you?
Why hold when you don't care anymore?
Why hold a hand that hates you?
You need a fucking shower.