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Wallow Hard

from by Chris Orrick

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lyrics

I saw a critic say I wallow too hard, took it personal
I love this shit with all of my heart
It's like, right from the start what I would write in my art
I was too afraid to talk about, afraid to even think
So, I took it like a fucking knife to the heart
I know most people won't treat it with that same type of regard
They got a job to do and I don't blame them for it
End of the day I'm just a dude who writes and tape records it
Guess I got lucky that somebody pays me for it
And looking at sales he might be fucking crazy for it
But I'm just sick of spinning my wheels
Older I get the more the shit's getting real
It's like, how much longer can the party last?
Seeing people in their thirties having heart attacks
I should be thinking about a mortgage
Couldn't do it with my credit even if I could afford it
Spending hours in my head, trying to figure what's important
To get my life sorted I might have to let the dream die
Knowing there's a version of me somewhere in my twenties
Looking at me thinking, "What the fuck, is he high?"
Or me at sixteen printing out the CD labels
Making shirts with the iron on the table
I remember listening to Eminem and Royce
Being proud thinking no one does it better than Detroit
Just a kid
Out there looking for his voice, taught myself how to rap
Never had a choice
Now I'm writing this like does it even have a point?
Just a way for me to vent, help me filter out the noise?
You know that feeling on a Sunday when a Monday's coming?
That dream where you're fighting for your life?
And you strike and you hit them with a left, then a right
Landing punch after punch
But it feels like nothing
I don't know.

credits

from Out To Sea, released May 24, 2019
prod. Nolan The Ninja

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about

Chris Orrick Detroit, Michigan

Chris Orrick is the patron saint of a poisoned world. The blue-collar MC writes spiteful chants for the permanently scarred, death letters for the forgotten, surly hymns for charcoal lungs. Think Bukowski on an eloquent bender, swapping wine for whiskey, a notepad for a glowing LED screen, the race track for the recording booth. These are anthems for the irate, over-educated and under-valued. ... more

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