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Rebirth

by Shit, Cops!

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1.
Rebirth 01:49
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I know I've got a lot of explaining to do for this past year and all these excuses. But I swear, this is where the procrastination ends. It's like a never ending plummet from happiness to desperation. Am I ready to let go? Am I ready to move on? More importantly, will I ever be? Instead of living carelessly, I sat back and laughed at those who did. Instead of friends who stick up for me, I get ones who smoke and sleep instead. I deserve it. I can tell myself I chose this isolation. Honestly it helps to numb the pain. But it all comes crashing back to just one painful fact: That I've been pretty fucking lonely. So hopefully ladies, possibly gentlemen, but mostly my best friends; I give you "Rebirth." And it tastes so fucking sweet. And I needed this pretty badly.
2.
Ocean Bear 04:04
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Sorry I couldn't be your pet. Follow you blindly without question. Conveniently around and always at your feet. I'm sorry for having goals and intentions to achieve them. So you've bared your teeth; shown me organs where flesh should be. The loveliest girl I've ever seen, fiercely stabbing me; bloodthirsty. This is goodbye for the last time. Enjoy your days spent here alone, or, more likely, with him. Sorry I see no reason to speak to you. Not tomorrow, or next week, or next year. So stop calling because I've got plenty of excuses. I'm sorry you just can't see right through them. I never trusted someone so much. Oh God knows she's a monster. Not plotting to leave me empty. Simply selfish; untrustworthy. I put up with this shit and loved you regardless. I bet he didn't even know your middle name. So my apologies that you must go on with this sad little life. And you better hope it was worth it. Now cope with it like a human. Sorry for being seventeen. My life is waiting in front of me. I've got places to go, people to see, friends I can talk to. I'm sorry you were what was holding me back. So my apologies that you must go on with this sad little life. Goodbye, not goodnight, my angel. You truly are my filthy regret. And you better hope it was worth it. Now cope with it like a human. Despite three years, I'm moving on. I'm sorry you can't do the same. I'm sorry you were the river that turned into my endless sea. (Conversation would have done. Another lover, just as well.)
3.
Extra Buttons on Shirts 03:38
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So as the days slow down to this wrinkled blur, I fill the creases with this unshakable anxiety. These friends are moving forward as I man the trenches alone. I've found comfort in this town, and I know what's waiting out there. But these fields have been my blankets. These trees have watched me grow. This nothingness is my everything. Though I love the thought of leaving someday. Four years gone won't change a goddamn thing. I'm sorry darling, but these fantasies are nothing more. They're fictional and ill-contrived at best. Tell me what you're chasing. Said I don't understand. I see no point in falling into this machine again. Because Jersey doesn't let you go whenever you leave. No, she follows you until you're home. A city can't be your savior if you keep the same behavior. A city can't be your savior when you keep the same behavior. Tell me what you're chasing. Said I don't understand. I see no point in falling into this machine again. Because Jersey doesn't let you go whenever you leave. No, she follows you until you're home. But I can't shake this feeling that my time is growing thin. It's as if all I've ever wanted has outrun me again. So save the modesty, give me honesty. And tell me where to begin. We stand in single-file: High School, then College, then monotony. I refuse to make a suit of one who knows it. We stand in single-file: High School, then College, then monotony I'd pick dreamer over soldier any day. Tell me what you're chasing. Said I don't understand. I won't be part of this fucking machine. Tell me what you're chasing. Said I don't understand. I see no point in falling into this machine again. Because Jersey doesn't let you go whenever you leave. No, she follows you until you're home. But I can't shake this feeling that my time is growing thin. It's as if all I've ever wanted has outrun me again. So save the modesty, give me honesty. And tell me where to begin.
4.
Retrospect 04:38
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I sat in Clayton Park today; the leaves to keep me company. But they fell asleep and I got to thinking, "Everything's gonna be okay." Though I spend most days alone: writing and moping. Wondering, "When will it be my turn?" Yeah, I've got friends but they throw parties that often end with disappointment in myself because I'm not like everybody else. Am I really this antisocial? Am I really this fucking anxious? But I just fail to see the point. So I'll take what's mine and fall alone for the first time. And I'll wait for someone who can back me up. But I can't talk to people. And I can't look at myself. But I've been getting better because this is growing up; which means growing out of luck. I've never done too well with introspection. Every time I start to see what's inside I turn quickly to self-loathing: no chance at realization. So I sit in this room writing songs about anything that's not too deep. Mostly girls and my inability to have one, or to keep one, or, more recently, how I hate one. I'm not an enigma but I've got the face to make it seem that way. I know you see my chest but inside, it's a mess. Now all i really want to do is give it a rest. And I know I've been trying way too hard. So I'll take what's mine and fall alone for the first time. And I'll wait for someone who can back me up. But I can't talk to people. And I can't look at myself. But I've been getting better because this is growing up; which means growing out of luck. I know I've been escaping 'cause this year has made a mess of me. I'm scattered things, foolish dreams; tucked away and rotting. But I've been getting better...at least I hope so. So I'll take what's mine and fall alone for the first time. And I'll wait for someone who can back me up. But I can't talk to people. And I can't look at myself. But I've been getting better because this is growing up; which means growing out of luck. But I can't talk to people. And I can't look at myself. But I've been getting better because this is growing up; which means growing out of luck.

about

This is a 4-song EP I wrote and recorded this summer. So please, enjoy. It's free.

credits

released July 29, 2011

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all rights reserved

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about

Shit, Cops! New Jersey

My name is Johnny Costa. I enjoy long walks on the beach, s'mores, and a nice pair of slacks. I write music and release it under the pseudonym "Shit, Cops!" So listen, and download (for free of course) if you enjoy.

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