Post Apocalyptic Stress Syndrome

by The BoomBachs

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    Post Apocalyptic Stress Syndrome.

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01:18
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02:15
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03:55
5.
04:47

about

"P.A.S.S." is the second EP to be released by The BoomBachs.

Featuring:

Adonias "A.D." Wondwessen - Vocals
MR Wheat - Keys/trumpet
Amir Matthew Westmoreland - Keys
Connor Veteto - Guitar
Manzell Bledsoe - Woodwinds/Windsynth
Dave Farrell - Bass
Lupe Barrera - Percussion
Stephen Simpson - Drumset

www.facebook.com/theboombachs
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Instagram: @theboombachs

credits

released 05 December 2013

Composed by Amir Matthew Westmoreland and MR Wheat
Lyrics by Adonias "A.D." Wondwessen

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Track Name: The Draft
I prefer my weakness played,

And out of my anatomy.

Platters to blather on about I serve it happily.

Colder than B. Anthony Hamilton, Joe Frank, and Reynolds

Wrap it all inside of a brown bag,

Call if you can but don't call the sheriff.

What's crossing your mind

When they tell you to hit the floor.

What happens when they're

Bangin' on the courthouse doors.

You don't intend to get caught slippin'

That's the point.

You need to stop that looseleaf-snitchin', boy,

And out of these seven they'll judge him.

Considering attire, he'll be under heel when yielding to their druthers.

The sun could burn under the shuttered gaze of the glazed stained

But what is the point of a window into your past that's

Shattered beyond movement.

With nothing left to lose or gain really

But, what if something to prove to you alone

Became worth the risk of your life?

But do what you like.
Track Name: Losing Site
Move me.

Get me out of these lines,

distract my id to attract my mind.

Soothe me, better yet don't

Never mind.

Forget it all together and react in kind.

Blind me.

Take away what is there

And replace it with a stop gap.

Searching out repairs for my heirs inhibited

But therein lies the drive for my premise

Or pretending that I give a shit.

Doubt me,

Because somebody's gotta.

Penny and a prayer on my chest

Or the knowledge of their meaning breeds my egos unrest

And I ought to slow down but I really don't wanna.

I already defeated myself and reaped the benefits,

And in doing so, taught myself that

Doing it and doing it and doing it

Over and over and over again

Yields higher concentration than going to war with them.

When time stops moving I continue on strong,

For the soul and the spirit linger on in the song.

That being said, I besiege all willing.

I don't have the time to waste yours or mine

With that “yours or mine” it's just racin'.

So we win because we're impatient.

And we lose in light of the situation.

But we never lose sight, when in trepidation,

Of the reason we arrived in the first place.

If you don't mind,

I would prefer it if we could first place

Weight on the issues on-hand.

If only in order to free ourselves from the shackles we made.

I remain in-chain.

Really to relish in the option of being

My own man who got dammed only half as much as what I pray for-
The slain, or the wake of the progeny broken by.

In absence we learn to fly, or at least fall and not cry.

When time stops moving I continue on strong for, the soul,

In absence we learn to fly, or at least fall and not cry or ask why

When time stops moving.
Track Name: Will They Be Happy
Second time up, eyes practically bawling.
She said sometimes I get the feeling I'm falling.
Catch me if it happens to be real, 'cause I'm hardly
In a position to keep the two of us out of harms way.
Charms say survival shouldn't be nearly this difficult or dangerous,
But every body wants to be famous.
Give me that pain, that "give me that back, immediately"
If not, these hands Rock Biter, expediently.

Does it matter if they didn't see it happen?
And when you tell 'em the story, will They be happy?
Is it important that you can remember every detail concerning
What happened after?

No no, forget what you know to be true.
This'll be the last time you decide to use me as an avenue to abuse you,
And all that it entails from the jump.
It's a boot loop with proof provided to name you the cause of withdrawls And Nightcalls.
Bask in the bastard glow of light,
Reflected from source to site.
You're too content with finding alike content
Over which to build your convent.
Connect for real, don't just click, reach out and feel.
'Cause when then just click up, it's honestly real.
No need for mass appeal.
From Sign to Seal. From souls to Guns, Germs, and Steel.
A Diamond in the rough in the center of the shield I wield
While willing my wheels thru fields.
Gather no moss, carry no steal.

Does it matter if they didn't see it happen?
And when you tell 'em the story will They be happy?
Is it important that you can remember every detail concerning
What happened after?

Dammit I could really use a good night's sleep,
But I feel I couldn't find it if I laid understood at the foot of Morpheus' Bed
With Orpheus heads circling my Circadian rhythm
At the pace of a dance with numerous riddles.
It's like a jungle sometimes,
It makes me wonder how I keep from going
Mighty Joe Young on a motherfucker.
Call him Chan, side kick was a black Tucker.
But he don't ever untuck he prefers hands up like a man is supposed To.
Don't you know you I am?
No, and I really don't hope to.
Then he started talking 'bout dope.
Dude pulled out a rock and approached.
Only to be groped by the notion that I knew what he had just find out.
The presence of the Po'.
The Ravens and the Vultures went to war that night.
I can't recall who won,
I ain't leave with shit but my own life, undone.

Does it matter if they didn't see it happen?
And when you tell 'em the story will They be happy?
Is it important that you can remember every detail concerning
What happened after?

Does it matter if they didn't see it happen?
And when you tell 'em the story will They be happy?
Is it important that you can remember every detail concerning
What happened after?

Does it matter?
Will They be happy?
Is it important?
What happened after?
Track Name: Solar Wins
Else,

If thou refuse to let my people go

Tomorrow, I will bring the-
Fuck it.

Walking thru the ruin, I looked down and caught a glimpse of it.

Put it in my pocket, walked away, and didn't mention.

Mmm, if they could see me now,

How astounded they would be at what I found on the ground.

No sound could've alarmed us anymore.

Looking back for nothing,

Other than who didn't make it out the door.

Four scores later, and several attempts

Broke it down and we haven't seen the same strength since.

What I mean to say by this or that is simpe.

Could've mustered more had we remembered our principles.

Isn't it funny how not caring can cause a stir,

And indifference can be just as effective as hurtful words?

Tarnishing a sol takes a lot of hard work.

Like working around the mirror makes it difficult not to smirk at the spotless speaker.

Thinkers and tweakers can relate alike,

But to different pointed edges of the same pike,

Don't fight it.

Bright eyes,

Tinted windows.

Heads down,

Til this wind blows

Over.

Over there where we found the beacon.

With levels peaking we take surplus and give em a reason.

Bright eyes,

Tinted windows.

Heads down,

Til this wind blows

Over.

I strike mine down, lay me down another.

Time is only friendly to the ones who ignorance passes over

In relation to the would-be healer of all things,

Dealer of ultimate fate, bringer of all peace.

One piece at a time, we relinquished the concept in conquest,

overbearing all with our contest in close proximity.

You could hear the sound of the barrier breaking

Just before they lost sight of th Space G.

Onto speaking, partly, every letter in the code

There you go.

A simple reminder of where to go when the time comes back into focus,

Life is a blur, I barely recall the existence or rather prefer that I don't.

To be honest is a luxury we can't yet afford.

Not to be ignored are the presently pressing pistons

Despairingly giving us no other option but to bear witness

To what happens when excuses have passed critical mass.

Bright eyes,

Tinted windows.

Heads down,

Til this wind blows

Over.

To a place we can rest,

Or at least land without distress

Signals are targets to these.

Bright eyes,

Tinted windows.

Heads down,

Til this window blows

Over.

Allow me to reintroduce without much ado,

And I estimate you probably missed what just happened to you

As a a result of not spelling it out for yourself or anyone,

Otherwise, drawing wider breath, you wouldn't bat an eye.

But instead you strike a pose in your skewed throes of humanity.

Close or open-toed, you can kick a goal with a boulder and plan to be

On bare feet running thru jungles chasing luncheon meat:

Old hoes thru old holes in hopes of escaping throat woes.

Just to juxtapose, just suppose the opposing foe

Folds over in time enough for us to locate the wrinkle and iron it out

In a matter of second seconds, being that the first were already accounted for.

It's a storm coming. Run in, or make for a door, I implore some.

And others, I realize, are just passersby.

You decide how you live and die, love and lie to yourself, and again about why.

I'm thru tryin'.

Every system has mains, that don't make you a lion.
Track Name: 10-4
Seen on scene, wide set, yet feather on the toe-tip.

Hip kicks hit like hip-kicks misguided to knelt lips and when felt rich-

-ochet throughout the whole community.

Travesties are sadly a guaranteed shot at unity, which proves to me

That in a crisis you can truly see

All the demons hiding in plain view next to you and me,

And seeing too much to believe it.

But you can't seem to leave it alone

So you take it to the limit and get in the zone to change your attitude.

To cultivate the thing that makes you want to make you make a better you

For the sake of doing it alone.

And doing it alone seems oddly moreso at home than home,

Which is comforting, for some reason.

It's similar to the feeling of feeling changing seasons,

The knowledge of knowledge without the need for conceited egotistical pleasure-seeking.

The pleasure of pleasure without a reason,

The reason you believe in what you believe in.

I'm hardly ever home but when I go I wish I had stayed longer.

I have a bad habit of hiding my feelings from me.

Whenever people ask me how come I don't smile, I'm not lonesome.

I'm merely exhibiting hereditary processes and schemes.

I recognize time as a mechanized design of digits,

Passing slowly over me, crashing to and fro with me.

It goes with me, only wherever I wish to take it.

Forgetting is a secret I bear in mind by my habits as nuns do,

Or rabbits that run fools thru briar patches.

I'm Patch Adams with less props and more masks.

I'm not a doctor but I do fill out orders for ass-whoopins'

With crass hooks like the last one I put in.

Down and out is just an excuse for me to run back in.

From back when my back bent and backspins were happening

To right here and now, where you can hear the sound of the boughs cracking,

And can't do a damn thing about it.

Fall where they may, have faith but don't doubt it.

'Cause that's the first step toward a story so tragic.

She say 'I like your back, I tell her I see your Bacchus and

Raise you an automatic old God from the Klaxon.

I'm hardly ever home but when I go I wish I had stayed longer.

I have a bad habit of hiding my feelings from me.

Whenever people ask me how come I don't smile, I'm not lonesome.

I'm merely exhibiting hereditary processes and schemes.

My sentence structure tends to tuk under the pillows of the young ones,

And give the older ones a pleasant thought on which to fall asleep.

I promised myself that this would change a life some day.

I like to think this is a promise that we continue to keep.

Keep on keeping it.