The Help Wanted EP

by Grape Juice Scott

(free) 03:29
(free) 02:58


released June 6, 2009



Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.


Grape Juice Scott

Grape Juice Scott does not give a fuck. Unless you give him a reason to. After that, god help you.

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Track Name: Ripped It Apart
Ants in the bathroom and the snakes on the trail.
Stale smoke up in the Baker, I'm a make it through this year. A word to the wise, we all float down here. We're caught up in the deadlights stalling out in second gear. And now a bullet for my valentine, I'm trying to decide. If I can sail of in the sunset on that river you just cried. My minds made up, now its an upward climb. Try to take and turn the tables, man I think I'm going blind. Like i light up out of the doldrums, the conundrums they cause. Laws of lovers and of loners adding a dramatic pause. Top dog up on the table, waiting to be euthanized. Like the lies you laying baby, act like I should be surprised.

Gas break dip, but my ass don't scrape.
Man I aint got shit, but the kids still hate.
Like I make ten cent, and the law takes eight.
Drank (Drank) too much and now I lost my game.
Cuz, I'll get dumb when the rum get poured.
Or I'll get bored and ignore the world.
I'll be on that shit that'll have you on that I don't want no more. I swore I must have missed a clue. But usually I have to.
With these pennies dimes and pawn reciepts.
The resin hits and stolen beats.
I'm a calmly walk to the middle of the street.
Let me greet this bus with a grin and a wink.
I'm a light a smoke and I laugh a bit.
When the wit lookes bad to the malequiped.
I don't trip, my lips are sealed. yeah I'm real on my shit like an unpaid bill.

And I've never read Hawthorne.
But one thing is for sure.
Families are always on the rise and fall.
Everyday in this world.
Like I would curl up in a dark cave and never come out. Just spout a million different sermons to the bats in the house. So now I'm wound too tight to fight the good war in my mental. To be like tactical or think practical, but if only it was that simple.
With one foot in the fire. The other one in the grave.
I'm trading hit with one hand. While the other one masturbates. And so the ashtrays will fill up on the table beside the chair. Where I've been sitting and getting stoned alone most of this year. Like I can hear the weary words that I ignored in the past. The vast infinity of nothing coming back at me fast.
And so I'm past the point now.
Where I don't care where this goes.
I know the path that we both chose would go astray but I'll cope. Yeah under every star that shone. I'd hold out hope she came home. But she's gone, and aint coming back. And at this point I'm fine with that.