Onions Make Me Cry, But Mondays Make Me Really Sad

by MC/DC

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about

I've been playing shows with my cool friend Andy Warpigs lately. He has a guitar. One night, he crashed at my house and we recorded this thing the next morning.

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released January 24, 2016

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MC/DC Tempe, Arizona

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Track Name: Tempe's Finest
More raps from the young black bastard, half my tracks are un-mastered, I’m no god,
But my flows cause cracks in the plaster, feel my wrath like disasters, I’m bad, ask your pastor
I’m tight, but my life’s ass-backwards, a spaz in a castle of hazards, and I don’t know why…
I can find passwords for Brazzers, but can’t find ass in this city, they won’t fuck with me
I’m three tens short of a buck fifty with a pretense to bypass her defense, and that’s messed up
I got enough crushes to fill packs of Camels, staining my heart like tar on enamel,
Half man, half animal, and half romantic who’s entranced by the tangible, when it comes to rap, I wrote the manual,
But I was never good at fractions, or big on love like Bill Paxton, still I’d like-like to find out what happens when back bend
Wrapped in passionate postures, buried inside bed sheets like ostrich heads in the sand, but instead I just stand behind impregnable panic walls
Erected on all sides when I lay eyes on the objective… from his perspective, sex is a reflexive verb and noun, tried to swim, but I’m drowning
Tried to stand on land, but even then, I’m drowning too. Man, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do
They said I gotta…

Get it in, get it in, get it in, get it in, get it in, get it in,
Aye aye aye

The cynic in me sees emptiness, and it’s infinite, this emanation of aging is imminent, an indiscriminant force of truth,
‘Cause youth is a club with no re-entry, feeling snubbed by the scene we invented,
This skin is a penitentiary, attended by inmates with wasted potential, feeling miniscule in the face of prudentialism
Conventional wisdom’s causing a schism in my psyche, is it like me to ever shop for sensible shoes?
What’s the principle, dude? Seeing hints of my eventual doom, had a penchant for playing instruments when I’ve been in my room
Now, I’m convinced that I’m defenseless and the end will be soon, I’ve got no tinder to rekindle the blaze
As if spring was a phase, and winter’s more than a season, it’s getting cold these days, I often rhyme without reason
The ride to work and malaise go together like peas in a pod, I’m no god, my lips chap and my skin cracks faster
I lived a lifetime in this last year, and my black ass has the scars to prove it, got a whole body that hurts when I move it
Am I broken or broken in? Is it prime time or twilight? Are these grey hairs or silver highlights?
Sippin’ Miller High Life, looking back on my life, maybe it’s the beer, but I’m starting to fear that I might just be…

Getting on, getting on, getting on, getting old, getting on, getting up there
Track Name: I Got Your Back
Have you ever felt inadequate, sad because you’re bad at shit, battling these demons who be schemin’ on your happiness
Dreaming of a better you in averages and advocates, but never doing that which is attractive to your advocates
Stacking on the pressure, stress is adding like an abacus, the slack is getting lesser, debts are stacking on your back
It’s moving faster than a tachyon while you’re stuck in molasses, a metastasis of backwardness as every second passes
If you’ve had that type of havoc in your life, then we’ll get past it, let’s personify the problems in your life and kick their asses
With Damascus steel, we’ll peel away the dark and stormy gasses ‘till your days are paved by sun rays like they stayed in Calabasas
If you’re lonely, I’m your fucking friend, your friends are dicks? Don’t fuck with them, you’re pissed ‘cause you’re not fucking? Well, I’ve got nothing, but pick up your chin
‘Cause when you’re finished feeling down and drowning in your sorrow, we can turn away from yesterday and focus on tomorrow ‘cause…

I got your back if you’ve got mine, I’ll help you out when times are tough
Things aren’t great, but they’ll be fine if we hold on long enough

Things will never be perfect, but if you persist, you can learn to work with the hurt and find perks where life permits
Not the pills, but the benefits from bending the ends of your lips upwards in a smile while you’re In some shit
I’ve been afflicted with foul feelings that won’t fly away, but even birds change their tunes some days
And the moon reflects sun rays, so in some ways, it’s not so dark in the night time, and while sadness never strikes at the right time
You can let that light shine on what you might find, misfortune and blight seem more kind to the eyes when illuminated
Though it’s easy to enumerate… and ruminate on mistakes, I’d rather vent and then give them no mention
‘Cause bad vibes thrive on attention, they gain strength when you let them in, and only seem to lessen their menace when
You turn that grimace into a grin, or turn that dirge into a ditty, if you fight the urge to frown, life can be pretty fucking cool ‘cause…

I got your back if you’ve got mine, I’ll help you out when times are tough
Things aren’t great, but they’ll be fine if we hold on long enough

If you’ve got the gumption to function and fight for your cause, in spite of your flaws, the you deserve the right to applause…
Unless you’re a Nazi… that probably goes without saying, but the line left room for interpretation
Anyway, if you’re patient on the days when life’s bathed in beige and grey, than things might turn out okay
And if not, then I’ll be there to say, “it’s gravy, have a brew and keep it movin’, that’s a pothole on the road to self-improvement”
I’m not so optimistic where I got it twisted, thinking shit’s terrific when it isn’t, that’s what livin’ is, carry on tradition
We’ve been gifted this condition that’s existed since the self-aware were lifted from their naked and bare state
And so we sift slate for gold, and boldly find bliss amidst the bluest hues, seek a smile and eke our way through
Persevere and pursue a chance to forget the asterisk that’s on your happiness, there’s more to say, but yeah, that’s the gist

I got your back if you’ve got mine, I’ll help you out when times are tough
Things aren’t great, but they’ll be fine if we hold on long enough
Track Name: The Weekend (Shitty Acoustic Remix)
Riding the lightrail with a heavy heart,
already steadily leveraged, part by bready beverage, bitter sting,
I sit alone a scribble things, with pens,
put petty art on parcels packed inside compartments,
of a bag I bring along on backs, I lag this sack of darts,
when spending time about, I rhyme it out, the finer points of life,
as I sit stuck atop the tracks, I jot one-liners that are tight,
anoint the white sheets with green splatters, leak what matters from the pen,
focused in on broken thoughts amongst the chatter and the din,
but don't get lost, 'cause in a minute, I'll get off, my stop is coming up, now thumbin' through a ton of stuff for number clues and money tucked,
it's funny how my funds abruptly disappear from pockets,
as I run the floor to walk through doors towards Phoenix city blocks,
kid feeling less than cocky, ought to know the address of the rock show,
if I had a map, I'd be a bit less agitated, got those chilly sweats just like gazpacho on my skin, but in the nick of time,
I see a friend by the liquor store, my Friday night is back on line

Feels like I'm jumping out the gate quicker,
life is short, take a picture,
back in the day, I used to hate liquor,
now I take shit straight, can't wait for the chase,
hit 'em with the proof to the face,
lookin' for a roof to get raised, uncouth in my ways, young youth in group, finna stay
with a one-two punch, get drunk, don't play, as we run through punks, don't want none, we say,
"Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go! Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!"

At time 'X', my mindset is too real to swerve, as I approach the curb with fuckin' nerves of Steel Reserve,
I feel perturbed, do I deserve this type of treatment,
too preoccupied with wipin' eyes to stop and great the cement,
toppled from my seat, feet went down to the ground, bound to repeat scenes of a clown,
my brown flesh scrapes the street, and it comes up red, they're all laughin',
my ship calls back to it's captain, asking me, "what happened?"
--same shit, couple sips had me slackin,
is it bad? I think I need an aspirin,
or maybe ibuprofen, I'm hopin' that my arm's not broken,
alarmed by the blood in the road,
maybe I should go, or at least get out of traffic,
load my stuff back in my pack, shit's real, I could have died,
won't always be this lucky when I'm fucked up,
Saturday, youngin' doin' dumb stuff

Feels like I'm jumping out the gate quicker,
life is short, take a picture,
back in the day, I used to hate liquor,
now I take shit straight, can't wait for the chase,
hit 'em with the proof to the face,
lookin' for a roof to get raised, uncouth in my ways, young youth in group, finna stay
with a one-two punch, get drunk, don't play, as we run through punks, don't want none, we say,
"Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go! Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!"

It's another under the weather day, I'm cloudy-headed, heather grey, had a rowdy night and regretted it, I'd better stay in bed a bit,
more complex than Oedipus, this session of depression hits,
I'm pressed against a precipice, just stressin' watching seconds tick... killin' Father Time,
I seek to lay with Mother Earth while other persons perch above me, what could love be, but a way to work and jerk me from this cubby,
I'm in a spot that's dark and muddy, but I'm not your buddy, stop it, feeling comfy in this dumpy plot, upshot is not the topic,
be myopic, life is caustic, I'm agnostic 'bout the causes,
feeling lost amongst these toxins as I opt to take my pauses,
when the gauze is stripped from wounds of life, at noon, I will rise rested,
it's a boon, a trifle vested in this next unit of wretchedness,
catchin' bits of football on a Sunday in October,
finding solace in the smallest shit as I sit in bed hungover

Feels like I'm jumping out the gate quicker,
life is short, take a picture,
back in the day, I used to hate liquor,
now I take shit straight, can't wait for the chase,
hit 'em with the proof to the face,
lookin' for a roof to get raised, uncouth in my ways, young youth in group, finna stay
with a one-two punch, get drunk, don't play, as we run through punks, don't want none, we say,
"Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go! Friday, Saturday, Sunday, go!"
Track Name: Happy Birthday
In this last year, I’ve seen a lot of… hot days and long nights and ignorant assholes who say that we fight for the wrong wrights
I’ve seen friends move away in cars and on flights while I still just move to the beat if the song’s tight
And I’ve been beyond hyped for shit that seems silly, but what else is life about, really?
Boredom can kill me, and excitement can build me up so tall, I step over small things with ease
With all our degrees, we still can’t stop the freeze of isolation as we lay in our beds under sheets
Or is that just me? Head full of southwestern ennui feeling restless next to palm trees
But beyond these fronds, they’re no promise the sales pitch is honest, so I try in earnest to make what I want of this world
And if that’s your situation, please accept my congratulations as I say…

Congrats to one more year of this, two more beers to double-fist
Three more cheers for laziness, that angel from those baby pics is grown
Happy happy birthday

Looking back on past punk shows, lost in reverie for brevity, ‘cause expression sounds better when it’s sweaty
And gaits are unsteady as we tread, heads bob to sounds beckoning us to raise hands and hearts with no leavening
Married to the moment without a wedding ring, reception’s in the parking lot, divorce on Monday morning when the party stops
And I think we all knew that those last few Baccardi shots were parting shots, and the next four days will be the hardest
When all your friends are artists and idealists, to deal with some real shit is really a drag and it’s tough to conceal that
We long for the days when we hang like tapestry, top off our glasses and rehash past blasphemy
I’ll quit drinking when you quit apathy, but until then, I’ll have the audacity to say…

Congrats to one more year of this, two more beers to double-fist
Three more cheers for laziness, that angel from those baby pics is grown
Happy fucking birthday