Simon's old bedroom was totally thrashed out. He got fed up one day and wrote lyrics about it.
Struggling to preserve this moments memories, among the drunken mistakes,
The writing on the wall tortures me with the lack of sense it makes,
Past, present, future friends leave their mark,
Swirling in a chaotic labyrinth of thought,
The lonely sane thoughts I find in the dark, where only my rest is sought...
Punished possessions, meaningless aggression...
Foolish addictions, apocalypse predictions...
Tributes to my heathen gods hang high to inspire,
The live fast, die young,
Sex, drugs, desire,
I live in a fucking thrash can,
I live in a fucking thrash can!
Lie face down in your disgrace!
Empty putrid poison lays us to waste!
And the evidence is scattered all over the place...
Abolish the stench but there's always a trace!
The black thick smog bubbles in my brain,
Alas, the happiness produced is but feign,
A sky high reminder of the days before, an inevitable truth, my lungs beg for more...
Distinguished folk just might say,
That this is just the wrong way,
But life's not worth living, if you're not alive...
released December 10, 2013
Bass and Lyrics by Simon Smith
Vocals by John Ferguson
Drums by Daniel Laughy
Lead Guitar by Adam Henry
Rhythm Guitar by Ben Gerencser
Written and Performed by the members of Torrefy
Recorded and Produced by George Anstey and Torrefy
all rights reserved