you shouldn’t believe every story you hear. it’s probably not that accurate.

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find a balance. don’t be too aggressive, but don’t be passive either. be assertive and confident, but don’t be gossipy.

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this isn’t about killing yourself.

this verse is essentially a diss verse to a toxic person that was in my life that i felt used me and stole from me, particularly my ideas he was able to monetize. so it’s not about suicide, it’s about hyperbolized self defense.

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It’s “venting on a song that’s never ending”

basically i’m acknowledging that i use music as catharsis, all the songs might feel different but i essentially use them for the same reason: to make myself feel better by being creative and productive.

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I’m sorry that I held so much spite for my father in my heart. I wish I had taken advantage of our time more when I was younger and still at home. I miss him as though he’s gone because he is a different person now. I wish I could tell him all that, but I can’t bring myself to do it in person.

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Recently my father’s begun turning junk into functional art as a hobby. He’ll take old coffee mate bottles or kool aid containers and decorate them with markers, turning them into coin holders and giving them to people as gifts. He’s taken to doodling again (he used to draw cartoons in his spare time when I was young). It’s by no means prodigious art, but it let’s his mind play and we appreciate that.

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Unfortunately, I think it might be too late for him to learn about me.

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The shared sentiment of a lot of friends seems to be “it’s not too late.” Most of me thinks it is. I try to soak up as much as I can from him when I’m around. I ask him about his family back East (I know next to nothing about his background). I try to ask him about his dad (he died of a massive heart attack when I was too young to understand, I have no memory of him). I try to learn about him, it’s the least I can do.

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My Pops taught me how to throw when I was three (see the explanation to “Best Fool”

My father was from Leechburg, PA just outside of Pittsburg. Huge Pirates fan, Steelers Fan, Penguins fan. He bought me a Roberto Clemente card when I was probably 10 or 11 for Christmas and I started collecting his cards. Had this one that wasn’t worth any money and I kept it in the brim of my hat for every baseball game I played from 8th grade until i stopped playing when i was 21.

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My father is the reason I make music. I was raised in a house where there was always music on. We had full access to massive record collection and my brother and I would often go to the basement and play video games or pool while listening to everything from the Temptations to The Clash on vinyl.

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