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All Of This Will Come To An End

by Craig Needles

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1.
This would be easier if I could see what comes next The hardest part of living is the constant fear of death I’m not dumb enough to think that I’m smart enough to know How any of us got here or what happens when we go But I think that life is a series of mostly random events That’s what I tell myself when I’m driving home and I’m trying to make sense ‘Cause I miss the backroads in my hometown and the darkness Of the late-night drive home from the Jersey Shore and the walk through the garden I’ve tried this a few times with the goal of getting out from under the weight Of the years I spent being horrible to everyone and realizing it's way too late To burn up, throw away, and erase Burn up, throw away, and erase Burn up, throw away, and erase Everything about myself that I hate All this time spent inside of my head This time, I’ll try not to obsess About death
2.
I think about killing myself, but it’s mostly hypothetical I just need someone to talk to, but I can’t pay for a professional It’s just some days everything weighs a little more I think about how hard I’ve tried and how hard I haven’t tried and how much I have tonight I think back on all the times when I was younger and felt more alive and for some reason still wanted to die Now we’re up in smoke And we’re down in flames And we’re all alone But we all feel the same We’re just lonesome travelers With made-up names In these subterranean hideouts I feel like I’m fading away I know now that I’ll never know If I prefer summer storms or fresh snow To be landlocked or along the coast I know now what life is not I’ve stopped comparing it to what I thought it would be, I still have no idea what I want Now we’re up in smoke And we’re down in flames And we’re all alone But we all feel the same We’re just lonesome travelers With made-up names In these subterranean hideouts I feel like I’m fading away I think about killing myself, but it’s mostly hypothetical I need someone to talk to but I can’t pay for a professional It’s just some days everything weighs a little more But I made it here, turn out the lights, I’ll lock the door Now we’re up in smoke But we’re down in flames And we’re all alone But we all feel the same We’re just lonesome travelers With made-up names In these subterranean hideouts I feel like I’m fading away I'm so afraid of fading away
3.
Something bigger is happening for sure Something we can never wrap our heads around I don’t believe in a Heaven anymore If I ever did anyway, it could all be traced back to a doubt That this could all be meaningless and randomized That this could all be explained with scientific proof Lately I’m just trying not to overanalyze And let myself get dragged back to the hell that I’ve been through It doesn’t have to be so difficult But it’s typical of me to forget It doesn’t have to get so crazy Slow it down, baby, take a breath I started growing up in the pages of On The Road And tried to be the Heart of every Saturday Night And every time she announced her independence, I would throw Myself into darkness and try to survive It doesn’t have to be so difficult But it’s typical of me to forget It doesn’t have to get so crazy Slow it down, baby, take a breath I was dressed like Tom Waits and she looked like a movie star In plain clothes but still radiating light She never fell for me the way I fell for her But I guess that’s all right 'Cause I’m still alive It doesn’t have to be so difficult But it’s typical of me to forget It doesn’t have to get so crazy Stop worrying about what’s next It doesn’t have to be so difficult But it’s typical of me to forget It doesn’t have to get so crazy Slow it down, baby, take a breath
4.
Transcend 04:43
I zoned out for a second and crashed my car I coasted around the corner and parked it I figured we’d just crash on my friend’s couch for the night She insisted we go back to her apartment I barely remember the cab ride I barely remember going to bed I remember waking up in the hot and bright sunlight With a heavy head How do we accept ourselves when we fuck up? How do we accept that we’re all gonna die? Debt collectors keep calling Resurrecting the feeling that I’m falling Close my eyes, sit back, and feel the pulse in my head 'Til the rhythm becomes strangely calming I remember so much of the long drive I remember seeing signs for South Bend The recycling of cells and the slipping away of time Are impossible to comprehend How do we get past the feeling that we’re nothing? How do we accept that we’re all gonna die? Transcend our attachment To every single nonevent And stop trying to reinvent The human experience Transcend our attachment To the ideas we represent And the crushing discontent And unanswerable questions Transcend your attachment To every single nonevent Stop worrying about when All of this will come to an end

about

This EP is dedicated to Erik Petersen of Mischief Brew.

credits

released September 30, 2016

All songs were written, played, recorded, mixed, and mastered by Craig Needles.

Artwork by: Craig Needles (while listening to A LOT of doom metal)

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Craig Needles Chicago, Illinois

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