I Hate Myself (feat. Bill McCoid)

The events that you are about to witness are based on a true story

Interior, The Backroom, Morning

12 Gage is sat at a desk he is trying to write He is wrestling with writer's block

FMA is watching intently over his shoulder

Let's keep it simple

Do I pick up the pen or the pencil?

To use it as my utensil

See I'm keenly bored of a keyboard

Now I'm wrackin' my brain for a rhyme

For a line

I'm tired I'm mired I'm tryin' to be inspired

So many syllables but which one?

And FMA's insisting that I pick one

Pick one pick two pick three pick four pick five pick six

Let's keep it simple

Let's overcomplicate this shit

Picture this

Part song part story part picture book part script

All six thousand words spat at the speed of the blood that sprays from my wrists

Let's get this

Oh yes let's

When you haven't even written a word yet

You've been starin' at the same syllable waitin' for it to be perfect

I've written five pages you scribbled it out that's the verdict

You're sittin' there saying you'll be spittin' the sickest line

I aint even heard it

Tell me how can I work with this

Bitch

There are some things in this life that you just can't rush

Art 'n' perfection 'n' trust 'n' greatness 'n' love

And me

So shut the fuck up son

We're gonna work 'til we're done

We'll work until the work is perfectly perfected

We'll work until we've created perfection

FMA & 12 Wrote solidly for a week

And at the end of that week they had written one whole line

Alright Dad fine

Let's try this again let's keep it simple

My fingers are on my temples

Do I stick with the pen the keyboard or the pencil

No need my G this is all by design

'Cos I got an idea in this mind o' mine

If I've told you once I've told you twice

I've told you a million billion trillion times

Just give me one damn line

Don't ever underestimate me better trust me this song's gonna be

Part song part story part picture book part script

Mix in an eclipse 'n' the limits of quantum physics

I'm gonna spit the world's first

Fourth dimensional verse

But we don't even have the words

You give me an endless list of shit 'n' then you tell me to work

I know you have an opinion but

When it comes to this

You better keep your mouth shut

We aim for perfection

We'll work on and on and on and on

And on it went

Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours turn to days turn to months

And it feels like fuckin' nothin' is all that we've fuckin' done

Heard this beat so much I'm feelin' fuckin' numb

To it

Stuck doin'

The same shit day in day out

Tryin' to make a bit of music

Come up with a lyric yet you refute it

Can't help thinkin' why would I choose this

Don't give me that shit kid

Don't give me no lip kid

You were born for this

You don't give me the time to catch my breath or to admire the steps we've tread

And yet all I have to look forward to is improvement and work

Until I'm chewin' on dirt

And you just push me through the hurt

I pull you kickin' and screamin'

And you will succeed in all your dreams 'n'

I dream you will be a better me

After weeks of progress weeks of work and hours of rewrites 12 was sleeping soundly

Suddenly there was a knock on his door

Callum are you awake?

I am now

I've got some news

I've been listening to the song

I think we should scrap it

No we definitely are going to scrap it

It's not good enough

It's never fuckin' good enough

We've never fuckin' done enough

You just want more from me

Do you know how many times I've been on the brink of givin' up?

Do you even give a fuck?

What

You lazy little fuck

What

You ungrateful fuckin' runt

What

I was inventin' 'n' testin' impressin' their minds

While you were stutterin' 'n' babblin' on nursery rhymes

Before you were even a glint in my eye

Or drippin' down your motherfuckin' mother's thighs

Shut the fuck up dad

Before you even think that

I pulled you back from the brink Matt

You put down the drink and

I'm pickin' up your fuckin' mantle

You really think anyone else could handle this

For My Anger died I brought it back to life

Tell me to shut the fuck up one more time

Where were you when I destroyed my eyesight

Designin' the album that gave you a head start in life

We both wrote that shit

But who worked on it on the most

And who benefits from it?

Who benefits from the lessons I've given

And the remnants 'n' memories that I've delivered

You learned from it I lived it 'n' every sin that I've committed

Will never be forgotten or forgiven

I gave you chances I was never given

You gave me regret it's festered in my head

I've followed your footsteps until my fuckin' feet bled

The house is almost silent FMA sleeps

One wall away paces 12 Gage his knuckles are bleeding

He grinds his teeth his fingers twitch flakes of enamel fall

He talks to himself but FMA is oblivious to the sounds

The Infernal Abyss

Words flood FMA's dreams

He gags and tries to spit them out but the punctuation causes punctures 'n' abrasions

His limbs thrash and flail He sinks The surface has never seemed so far away

A familiar figure stands over him

On the 1st 2nd 3rd and 4th wall 12 scrawls in his father's blood the word

Thirteen