Black Medicine

by Smear Campaign

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1.
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02:18

credits

released September 20, 2014

Smear Campaign is Taylor Kreemer and Josh Stanley
Written and produced by Smear Campaign
Engineered and mixed by Josh Stanley
Mastered by Doug McBride at Gravity Studios; Chicago, IL
Words by Model Citizen, Josh Stanley
Artwork by Jason Miller

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Smear Campaign Chicago, Illinois

Smear Campaign is a stew of jazz, trip-hop, and progressive rock influences that is currently being brought to a boil in Chicago, IL.

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Track Name: Black Medicine
Caught in a web.
Writhing. Scratching.
Trying to shed some skin to breathe again.

You're binding my wrists.
Pulling me to bits with your black medicine.
And I want to taste your skin.
All I need; to sink my teeth in.

Breathing is stifled.
No escaping this pick axe to the skull.
Fractured.
The impact knocks me back against the wall.

And it pumps my blood at night.
A ghost behind closed eyes.
And though I can't see straight.
I will find a way to alleviate the strain.
Track Name: More to Life
A generation gorging on information.
Regurgitation of what they see and hear,
without proper digestion to make it clear,
causing stagnation in our conversation.

For a wise man speaks because he has something to say.
A dumbass so he can say something today.
Before the fad passes. The car crashes.
It's no surprise these young guys get famous in these mad dashes.
Longevity is no concern for millennials.
"I think my phone just got an app to make me memorable.
School's for fools. Work's for mules.
I think I'll just be famous so the rules don't apply.
Then I can just coast by and get high, and let life slip by,
And when I'm old I'll have time to wonder why there isn't more to life than this.
There isn't more to life."

Self assured when I'm surrounded.
Insecure when I'm in my bed.
Psycho-killer when I'm in my head.
Overworked, but I'm making that bread.
And I'm vicious.
Honey wheat, sour dough, 12-grain: delicious.

Floating like I'm viscous.
Higher than you fishes fly,
in this overpopulated, degraded sky.
The music industry,
America,
Planet Earth,
For what it's worth I'm grabbing the mic today, to say:
We may not be facing an imminent demise,
but there's no disguising seas are rising.
So while Bjork's beat keeps riding,
remember the hands on the clock keep climbing,

Don't wait 'til it's too late just to decide that you can't fake a future utopia just by saying, "Nothing's wrong."
I put this poem to a beat to serve as a swan song.
Why don't you sing along, huh?