Apathy
by Marches And Maneuvers
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 8-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now name your price
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My Simple Demise
04:00
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Tilly Cat, Stop That.
03:33
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Time Loss
04:55
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about
A collection of songs that should have been released a long time ago if I weren't so lazy.
credits
released 19 May 2011
All songs written and performed by Marches and Maneuvers (apart from a lick stolen from Matt O'Brien).
Recorded and produced by Darron Atkinson
Female vocals by Jade Turnbull
Artwork by Matt O'Brien
All songs written and performed by Marches and Maneuvers (apart from a lick stolen from Matt O'Brien).
Recorded and produced by Darron Atkinson
Female vocals by Jade Turnbull
Artwork by Matt O'Brien
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for 
- Track Name: Solitary Confinement Would Be Outstanding, Thank You Warden!
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Well I've been lost and confused before but my map is out of date,
It's the same old fucking city but with a thousand brand new streets.
And every sign and every mark is embedded with a phrase,
You better make it out or you'll be dead in 30 days.
And I wish someone had gone and told us,
How to find the bypass turn off.
So I'm tuning out the radio and shutting up the shades,
In an effort to be cleansed and look ahead to better days.
Where I don't need a photograph to prove I've been around,
And I'm comfortable to look on one without breaking down.
But I think I'm running out of petrol,
With my foot down firmly on the pedal.
With the break lines cut and the wall approaching,
Give a smile for the life that you're controlling. - Track Name: Will The Band Please Stand?
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This house is reaching breaking point, it's splitting at the seams,
Thank god the seams are made of brick and strengthened with concrete.
But at 21 I can't complain, nearly all of those I love,
Are within just 20 miles of me, and a phone call finds the other ones.
And the single glazing lets in all the noises of the street from down below.
It's not the comfort that my parents have, but I have come to call this home.
Well two short decades isn't much, but it's enough to know,
The sting of loss, feel guilt and shame, and to fear what is unknown.
Well it's fun to be a bitter man like the heroes on tv,
But I'm starting to think this model is alienating part of me.
It's tricky when you're led to believe it will all work out in the end.
It tends to create apathy and distract from the days events.
This summer is the turning point as all my friends come home,
To a town that took me in and raised me as one of it's own.
On the hill, half drunk, we fell in love, it scared me half to death,
I'll defend it and go back there til my final dying breath. - Track Name: My Simple Demise
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You say this is not a lack of heart, a lack of faith, no not at all,
It's just a lack of time, just a lack of space, just a lack of the meaning for this case, this crime and this acquisitions.
But you're guilty by your own admission.
And you can't hide the evidence that has been released.
Capture the moment with a picture and paste it to the wall to show commitment.
That makes it real, that makes it stable.
Well baby, I don't think so, in every one my back is turned.
And the phone calls are a butterfly knife twisting in the scars of a life which I keep trying so hard, so hard to set apart.
You wrote a letter to me citing every single flaw.
It was a paragraph of excellence that could not be ignored.
I'd plan to write back, but truth be told I haven't got the time or enough words for all your traits that slowly led to my demise.
So let me peel my skin and place it on your grave as a reminder to outsiders not to lose the games you play.
Our friends will argue over who had the most crippling demise, in what simply became an orchestrated breakdown of our lives. - Track Name: Boxing Day Is A Downer...
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I drank for 12 straight hours today and not one drop altered my way of dealing with the hole, it's poorly patched up with the ghosts of years before.
Well that a lie! A blatant fabrication. But who gives a damn? We all need a disguise.
And this meat isn't as fresh as it used to be, but when eaten it still makes an acceptable meal.
So sit back and enjoy what remains of the day, as we slip into this coma we call middle age.
I'm fumbled thoughts and clutching straws, and all I want to know is how they found this address? I never put it on a letterhead.
But still they're coming through the door, two by two and then two more.
I wish that they'd just leave so I can get down on my knees...
And pray that this is going to be the last time I leave myself wide open and rationalise it's not your fault you're failed by your own two feet.
But the next time you come round I'll be armed to the teeth.
I could destroy you if I wanted to.
You could destroy me if you wanted to.
But I won't. - Track Name: Who Knows How To Start A Fire?
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A fierce financial crisis, and all cancer patients made exempt,
Was the backdrop to a heartache and the breaking of two friends.
While I was sat there losing, smoking to an early grave,
The other side of the story, it began to slowly fade.
It was time to leave the complex, but exits were all poorly marked,
How can someone finish something when you can barely even start?
It's and act of desperation when the goal outshines the means,
So instead of checking doors you reach for cans of kerosine.
I burnt the house down, but the shell remains.
It's a very subtle vision of what the structure used to be.
The ashes swirled accusingly, and couldn't understand,
How contentment lead to questions, and those questions bred demands.
But if I asked you stare on life, but said you can't take part,
It would tear you into pieces, it would fucking break your heart.
Now my life is just numbers and taking peoples calls,
I'm enclosed within a cubicle made up of paper walls. - Track Name: Tilly Cat, Stop That.
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Wake, roll over and feel a scratch at the feet that were used to decrease the distance with a little help from paper and steel, and a lot of excuses and shared history.
Get myself out of this cocoon.
Get my head clear and clarify the view.
Arm the forces inside my head for the new day of dawnings and the new day of mis treads.
Walk out the door and the danger of it is the most satisfying step every experienced.
Where these feet can go?
Repetition does not imply that the same mistakes will be made this time.
As this tale of two cities carries on, I'll set fire to the epilogue.
With the armaments that I have in store for the coming months and the new world war.
Make your preparations, it's coming fast.
This future is a repeat of our past.
The soldiers turn to go and we are left alone.
They wouldn't wait but I would wait.
You wouldn't wait but I would wait.
Well I'm done waiting now.
I'm done as the time runs out and the clock restarts for a new countdown.
Don't let the ticking of the second hand put you out as you walk down the hallway to leave the house. - Track Name: False Prophets Can Be Fun Mrs Robinson!
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Confused that everything just doesn't make sense, and we're confused by the fact your a liar.
The consequences of a night well spent turned these embers into a fire.
It seems like we're all searching for a place where we can rest our heads,
Buy my pillow turned to ashes and now I lie here burned in this hospital bed.
Recovery is a deceptive word, the frequency with which it's used is alarming.
I never knew so many of my kind were broken down, beaten and dying.
If there's a god or a creator we all wear the scars of his design,
If we're all made in his image then he's already taken what is mine.
So you'll forgive me if I waive my right to align this 'misdirection'.
I'd rather put my faith in you my friend than give this hypocrite attention. - Track Name: Time Loss
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Please take these faults and bury them, let's see what grows inside the ground so we can devastate it.
Please take our young and bury them, they're safer underground than with they're family and friends.
I want something new to think about, you irritate the skin that wraps around my arms.
I want some new eyes to look around, these ones are blistered from the bright lights in this town.
I'm sorry that I'm not the man I used to be but it's all just consequential post traumatic stress relieved.
Words fog your lenses and it's a hazy world you see, but that consequence makes a lot of sense when you consider how we breathe.
Please take these faults and bury them, the ground is unforgiving, we're at its mercy til the end.
Please take our young and bury them, they'll grow as liabilities and they'll blossom into death.
I have something new to think about, it irritates the skin that wraps around my arms,
I have some new eyes to look around, they're getting blistered from the bright lights in this town.
In this town my time is running out.
