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I’ve tried keeping my head on a swivel
And being a fly on the wall
But pressing truths inside my skull
Left me with a gaping hole
A gaping hole inside my head
And inside was an evil rabbit
He stopped pulling at my brain
He turned to me and said
I just want to contribute
He said that I just want to be heard
He said that I wanted to tell you
But my mouth’s full of all the wrong words
So I pulled that rabbit out
And stuffed him in a sack
But the magician’s tricks don’t work anymore
He jumped out and crawl back in
The rabbit found a path to my mouth
One that was far less travelled
One filled with shit that I put in my body
Then he came back up and said
Im worried that I’m making you sick
He said I'm worried that you're starting to hate me
He said I’m worried that you're getting to know
The piece of shit that’s inside of me
supported by 11 fans who also own “There's A Hole in Your Head and I Can See You Thinking”
Folk-Punk?! What! Used to love them to the point where I embraced Markwell's self-destructiveness, self-pity, contempt towards her friends, and delusions of grandeur. Do you know why? she had the soul, genius, emotional whimsy and dare to meet us in a world where getting a dog tattoo is "too ambitious," James Joyce is an insult, and whoever says "no" to romantic advances gets crushed in the end. Let's just say, she has more bones to pick with the males than any other artist I'm aware of. OQ