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How I Feel Inside

by CrackTown

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Christopher Peel
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about

Sensitive singer-songwriters plunging the very depths of the human soul; portraying the anguish of a lost generation (it doesn't matter which one; they've all been "lost" since the Second World War let everybody know what was what)...These are the TRUE artistes; bless them and their little cotton First World Problems.

lyrics

Well, we've never met before, but you've paid your money at the door;
I think I'll bleat and whine about the day my dog got killed,
Without so much as a "how'd y'do?"
I'll open up my heart to you,
'Til my taste for narcissism's temp'ro'ly fulfilled
Who cares if you don't give a damn, 'bout Rover spread on tarmacadam?
Don't affect your life how much I cried.
Who cares if you're sat comfortably?
This next half-hour is all about ME;
Singing all 'bout how I feel inside

Self-indulgent? Yep indeedy; but I'm so pitiful and needy,
I'll stand here frail and vulnerable, and you'll say "Man; ain't he brave?"
Tonight I'll settle my old scores
And pick at all my psyche's sores,
Sing about my untrue love and the tears on Daddy's grave
Whistful chords and a trembly voice
Go to make my therapy of choice;
Resign yourself and come on for the ride,
This confessional shit ain't just for boozers; it works for all kinds of fucked-up losers,
Clap while I sing about how I feel inside

Makin' up my mawkish lyrics using specious metaphysics,
Teenaged stuff 'bout rainbows, doves, and the writhing worms of Strife,
Symbolic implications for all people of all nations;
You'll say through tears, "it's like he's singin' 'bout my life,
"About how everyone abused me,
"About how relationships confuse me,
"He knows the human heart and that fact cannot be denied"
Really though; if we're deep down honest,
Sit on THIS and swivel on it,
All that matters is how I feel inside,
Yes; all that matters is how I feel inside

credits

released July 10, 2013
Written by CrackTown
Produced by Jonathan Howell

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CrackTown UK

Loveable cultural mudlarks gleaning acoustic treasure from the putrescent corpse of the UK as it bobs sickeningly in the noxious and apathy-choked estuary of the early 21st Century. Blues/country/folk/punk swallowed seperately and whole, then sicked up into your unsuspecting faces as a surprisingly palatable mélange seasoned with Secular Humanist rage. Country music with knob gags is what it is. ... more

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