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Pharmacie

by Apologies, I Have None

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Jonathan Mundy
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Jonathan Mundy Bare blooded emotion wrestled around keys and panged notes. Come share the pain
Schein(R)iese
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Schein(R)iese "Do I give up or do I keep fighting?" A question I myself have asked me a many times. I feel like this whole album keeps repeating this question. Whether through the lyrics, the voices singing or the music. Next to "everybody wants to talk about mental health", "crooked teeth" captures the ominousness of the ever facing question " do I give up, or do I keep fighting?" Favorite track: Crooked Teeth.
Toby
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Toby There's something about the epic come down or week long hangover about this entire album, as mood effecting as something entitled Pharmacie should be. Favorite track: It's Never The Words You Say.
Jasper Tandy
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Jasper Tandy This is a beautiful, dense, heavy and melodic piece of music. Lyrically frank and moving. Favourite track is Killers but it's not up yet!
Adam Beales
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Adam Beales I find it really difficult to listen to this record just because of the lyrical content hitting deep, but it is an outstanding record. Give it a listen. Favorite track: Everybody Wants To Talk About Mental Health.
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1.
Words have a weakness. They break when it comes to explaining all of the reasons. They fray at the ends when stringing together the sentences needed to tie up all of my questions. Time has no patience. It’s reflected down hospital walls in the bodies and minds of patients and it’s all I can think of lately. These tired eyes hide a wild mind. Is it ever enough, love and medication? Over and over and over again I have the same conversation in my head. Over and over and over again I have the same conversation in my head, why the fuck am I like this? Night sweats and tight chest, and plummeting mindset, but I can’t control it and I don’t think he gets this. Why can't he shut the fuck up for a minute? Why can't he just shut the fuck up and listen? These tired eyes hide a wild mind. Is it ever enough, love and medication? These tired eyes hide a wild mind, burning up like a wildfire.
2.
Wraith 03:47
In my sleep all I ever see is rotting corpses of Winter trees. A twisted cypress that holds no leaves give a violent, lifeless, freezing scream. Black, the colour of my true loves hair. It matches the black in the ice of her stare and the blackened core of the corrupted thoughts I think. Black everything. Fade away, fade away. Waste away wraith, I don't want to see you again. She looked to me to be a rock and I promised her that I was but time stuck it's foot in again, tested me, turns out that I was dust. All you need is some help but the black of my anger, it white washes everything else. I can't help thinking if you mention suicide again, I swear I'll kill you myself. Every single morning I fight through the same fog of painkillers and sleeping pills. What the fuck did I wake up for, when each and all my actions, every step I take are just slow motion replays of previous mistakes
3.
A master actor, a perfect liar. All smiles played out with expert timing. It starts like rust, slow and silent, but grows like fire, swift and violent. I walk much slower now I've got no direction. All bends are blind, all cracks chasms. I love and hate in equal measures the freedom from precision that acting like this offers but habits are so easily formed and not so easily forgotten. It's nothing that some wine can't sort out. Hit the offy, back a bottle, drop two sleeping pills and hope to pass out. The run has got me spinning around and down and out. I hate the person I've become. Hate the foil, hate the filters, hate the blister packs but I won't stop. The run has got me spinning around and down and out. Praying that the clarity of morning brings a peace to ease the mourning of a loss of control, as two lives split in half from a whole. She'd say “I missed you when you were gone”, and I would wish that I was off anywhere else. I'm sorry. When I said I didn't love you what I meant was I hate myself
4.
In the heat of the moment I lose my head, blind myself to what this really is. In the heat of the moment I back down and let all my fear and hate and doubt slide in. I lose the fight and disconnect from the void that lies between birth and death. The empty hanging nothingness, the blinding, rushing, numbing test. Yeah in the heat of the moment I lose my head, and there’s no coming back from here. In the heat of the moment I think of the aftermath, think of the line I cross. In the heat of the moment I’m so far gone, the line is a list, the list is a wall but I just can’t stop. Until the ease of dawn where I beg for rest from the growing itch in my arm and chest, the overpowering lack of sense that drives me over and off the edge. Into the heat of war, marching on, robotic, mechanical, and overwhelming appetite for absolutely anything chemical. I let my brother go to the devil his own way, but would they let me go to the devil my own way.
5.
Turn this one up, man. I haven’t heard it in a long time. As we sit in silence it reminds us how we’ve barely spoken in a long while. I don’t know why. It’s kind of fucked up, spend most of our lives getting fucked up. We can try and pick a path through the waste of our past but I’d just rather have some of that time back. I don’t know why. So goodbye, peace of mind. We gave it a good try but I can’t see this working out. As we hit the banks of the Rubicon I’m not planning on stopping, I’m heading south. I’m heading south
6.
There is only ever temporary release from the ever present, growing, feverous heat. From the never ending dull weakness that comes from a deep need for sleep. Trying to find a place within a framework that says, teach your sons to be aggressive, daughters to give in. A real man never backs down, he keeps his fears close to his chest. I follow the wash of electrical warmth down through the silence that falls. The curve in the flow of the smoke, I follow it home. Go. Go find your feet before the rush of youth evaporates and vapour seeps into your hips and knees. Reminds you that you spent your whole life trying but couldn’t outrun defeat. Everybody’s so fucking perfect, your only ever high. The only time you seem to crack a smile but when first impressions count do you want a flash of crooked teeth to count you out? I follow the wash of electrical warmth down through the silence that falls. The curve in the flow of the smoke, I follow it home and leave behind a world that never seems to make much sense. Sink into the only place that ever quells the static in my head. Between the drip at the back of my throat and the curve in the flow of the smoke, found a home.
7.
Goal. Motion is my one and only goal. Stagnation is the deepest fear I hold. Waves of indecision they make short work of these plans and wash away the walls of my resolve. I guess nothing lasts. And so it goes, but is anyone themselves, bound to current trends for beauty, shackled to the never ending scramble for wealth? Yeah I’d love to remember a single time that I was a real person but I’m not convinced that I ever really was. I guess nothing lasts. I know it’s fucked up, I know it’s a cold world. Turn our backs and leave, we could just turn our backs and leave. Is it worth it, the fight? The pushing back against the constant caving in of life? When all our epitaphs will read the same when our time has passed -Here lies one whose name was writ in water- I guess nothing lasts. I know it’s fucked up, I know it’s a cold world. Turn our backs and leave, we could just turn our backs and leave. I know I fucked up, a cruel man in a cold world. So turn your back and leave. You can just turn your back and leave. Now everybody wants to talk about mental health, like everybody thinks by talking they can work their problems out. I’ve never been one for talking about myself so if talking is the only way to solve this, I don’t want to sort it out. I’ll keep it in, chew it up, spit it out with unwanted aggression. I’ll be like, test me and see what happens, I am dying to see that happen. I am dying to see that happen.
8.
Sometimes you just want to know you're not alone. She said, "It takes everything I am to fight every thought I have and I can't seem to find the strength I need to live like this. Do you know what it's like to have to walk that line?" I said, "I know what it's because I walk that line my self at times. I have those thoughts myself most nights. It's never easy when you live on a battle line." Sometimes you just want to know you're not alone. She said, "I hate being the way I am. I hate being the type of person that I can't stand, could you ever understand?" and I said, "It's alright, I know exactly what that's like." That's all she needed to hear. A few years on, I thought this would be long gone, hear where it's coming from - London. Now I know, not much ever changes if you don't let old habits go. It's never the words you say but the way you say them, it's never the same if you try and fake them. Going back over old ground is like a hammer to your mental health, but we're still dragging concrete feet so I can't focus on anything else
9.
Killers 08:21
We know this path. Know it like the back of our hands, that shake along to grinding teeth in sync with weary legs and a fuzzy head, but we can't stop this. So we play our parts with all the strength that we can. Wading through endless - how are you?- 's with smiles and nods and - Yeah, I'm good cheers. Yourself? - then on to the next one. It's been a long year. It's been a long few years. I hear that laugh. The pitch and tone that carried us through Paris, Prague, Cardiff, Riga and Rome, to the beds we shared in London in the flats that we called home. But it leaves a mark. We are hair triggers. Shadows of our former selves, shells of withered figures. We are prisoners. We are killers. We are constant over thinkers. But how would they know, when the face they see you wear is not your own? How would they know, when every inch of me that they once knew is gone? How would they know?
10.
This confession has meant nothing. There’s no more barriers to cross. Nothing is redeemed. I've gained no deeper knowledge of myself. A broken empty vessel, a lung that is lacking air. You could take my hand and feel my flesh gripping yours but I simply am not there. Gone without a warning, I go down without a fight. But you and I, we’d level each other out. I was the pills that kept you steady. You, the opiates that talked me down. All we had to do was try and make each other laugh and let love and medication see us through the harder parts. You’re not the type of woman that ever likes to say things clearly, but you know that I’m the kind of guy that needs to have it spelt out for me. It’s not the sort of thing that ever really seems to just get better. No parents and no friends or lovers, or doctors seem to ever have an answer. It comes without a warning and I go down without a fight. But you and I, we'd level each other out. I was the ghost in your machine, you were the chink in the armour of my self doubt. All we had to do was try and make each other, it’s all we had. Love and anger they share the same bed, the same body heat warms both of them. They rise together as we come together and it makes a mess of our heads. We’ve seen it before and we’ll see it again. Expectations cause a rift and we stand on different sides until the crack becomes a chasm, an unconquerable divide, and we rarely see eye to eye. Maybe a kid could sort us out, we could take everything we love about each other and put it into someone else. Take all that extra energy that we would use to fight and pour it into the foundations of the building of a life. I can see it now, almost close to perfect. It could be you, her and I living by a pharmacy in Paris. All we have to do is try and make each other laugh and let love and medication see us through the harder parts. Is it ever enough?

about

All profits from the sales of 'Pharmacie' will be donated to Rape Crisis and Hestia.

rapecrisis.org.uk
hestia.org

credits

released August 26, 2016

produced by apologies, i have none
mixed and mastered by pete miles

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Apologies, I Have None London, UK

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