1. |
Summer at Jersey
04:17
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There’s nothing like it
A dormant fire lit
Bright sun light, you’ll see
Down on the shore, the shore of Jersey
The Situation, a man without a nation
Egotistical masturbation
Punctuated by the same flaws of you and me
Fear, depression and insecurity
Don’t come at me,
Check out Ronnie,
He’s angry up front
But also cries and calls Sam a “cunt”
Conflicted by who he should be?
A mediating Ronnie or a being of misogyny?
Don’t ask me!
There’s nothing like it
A dormant fire lit
Bright sun light, you’ll see
Down on the shore, the shore of Jersey
I want to ask Jwoww,
How?
So rough and tough
But I’ll never have enough
You’re the middle ground,
That Pauly wants to pound,
Though he won’t say it,
Talk shit get it
And speaking of, what’s happening with Sam?
Thrown out to the slaughter, an emotional lamb,
Watch her cry the days by,
Watch her lie the ways I,
Couldn’t do no matter how hard I try
There’s nothing like it
A dormant fire lit
Bright sun light, you’ll see
Down on the shore, the shore of Jersey
And Vinny, what the hell,
Why doesn’t that guy use hair gel?
What came unstuck?
That guy's white as fuck
He needs a tan, man.
Unlike Snooki
She’s the one I want to be
And the one for Vinny,
I know it inside me,
She’s the epitome of ‘tan’
There’s nothing like it
A dormant fire lit
Bright sun light, you’ll see
Down on the shore, the shore of Jersey
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2. |
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Twenty nine years past my peak
A dried up melancholy bore
TV screen flicker a midnight whore
Rotating round a digital pole
Mending a metaphysical hole
Another stained magazine cover
To remind me of another
That I didn't know
Try hard to deflate my ego
So I'll know that wherever you go
You're feeling somewhat better than me
They say what you sow is what you reap
Wasting my time counting all these sheep
Next scene has a microwave, spinning round
Yesterday’s heated food keeps me on the ground
While excess makes each line of the chorus longer
and a perennial lack of sleep day after day makes life grow fonder
right?
No, that statement isn't true
And I don't know about you
But I feel increasingly worse
Psychologically perverse
Continually unsatisfied
By the prospect I'll never be admired
I'm sorry, oh no
Not gonna be a pharaoh
I'm not wearing a crown that's sparkling
Statistics doubt I'll be king
And I'm inclined to believe their true
They say what you sow is what you reap
Wasting my time counting all these sheep
Next scene has a microwave, spinning round
Yesterday’s heated food keeps me on the ground
While excess makes each line of the chorus longer
and a perennial lack of sleep day after day makes life grow fonder
right?
No, that statement isn't true
Like Miles Davis, I'm kind of blue
But not talented or jazzy
Just outspokenly brassy
Eternally unclassy
Voluntarily discarding my soul
Slipping into a different role
While the midnight whore rotates round her digital pole
They say what you sow is what you reap
Wasting my time counting all these sheep
Next scene has a microwave, spinning round
Yesterday’s heated food keeps me on the ground
While excess makes each line of the chorus longer
and a perennial lack of sleep day after day makes life grow fonder
right?
No, that statement isn't true
Still I'm desiring something new
Cause I've played this role through and through
and I'm ready to bid it adieu
Guess I'll have to find something else
To maintain my mind's consistent pulse
I don't know how I'll fare,
But good to go somewhere
because hanging round here
in a claustrophobic realm of no cheer
and no excitement near
just endless brooding of fear
but
They say what you sow is what you reap
Wasting my time counting all these sheep
Next scene has a microwave, spinning round
Yesterday’s heated food keeps me on the ground
While excess makes each line of the chorus longer
and a perennial lack of sleep day after day makes life grow fonder
right?
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3. |
T-Shirt Store
04:03
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Reclining on a bench in the T-shirt store
Couldn’t I have been, something more?
Another question to ask myself
Straightening tan spray up on the shelf
I guess it’s a fitting metaphor
For my impermanence and more
I’ve been down this aisle before
At the T-shirt sore
If you let me alone, with a second to think
I’ll probably look for a mirror, it’s a basic instinct
A complex of vanity
Compounded by uncontrolled insanity
And the T-shirt store, pulls me away from the shore
Reclining on a bench in the T-shirt store
Staring at the sea, wound up on the shore
Only stay here because I must
Is this spray tan or is this rust
The customers come and go
Smiles, frowns and sticks to throw
But in my moments to spare
I head to the back, and gel up my hair
If you let me alone, with a second think
I’ll probably look for a mirror, it’s a basic instinct
A complex of vanity
Compounded by uncontrolled insanity
And the T-shirt store, pulls me from the shore
My disguise is fool proof
And I sit here, after work
Gazing at the sun on the store roof
A ray glistens in my eye
Temporal joy I can’t deny
But it’s accompanied by a sigh
Because a tan can’t define
A mind that isn’t mine
If you let me alone, with a second think
I’ll probably look for a mirror, it’s a basic instinct
A complex of vanity
Compounded by uncontrolled insanity
And the T-shirt store, pulls me from the shore
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4. |
Karma
05:10
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Fuck the pub, I don’t want to socialise,
Just wanna club till every single brain cell dies,
The only way to make the pain go away,
I need to drink myself from day to day,
Trying to masquerade all my self-hate,
Trying to forget my pathetic fate,
Breaking down my metaphysical armour,
I only want to be at a club called Karma
I don’t feel like a man,
Without a bottle of fake tan,
Every moment I spend out of the club
Is wasted like an empty hot tub.
3 parts vodka, 1 part lemonade,
I don’t want to take home another grenade,
“Pauly, that’s a sexist thing to say”, they’ll say
Fuck them, try being empty day to day.
Tonight I’ve got to take it to full throttle.
Drinking straight whisky, straight from the bottle
Screaming in my head “pain, go away”
And don’t come again another day.
T-shirt time, tonight I’m going plaid.
But it’s the hair gel that’s gonna get me laid.
Famous throughout all of Jersey,
The art, the hair, of Pauly
Can you tell me, what it means to be a man?
Hear your echo within a beer can?
The feint sound of emptiness inside
A tan covers what I have to hide.
I hope this isn’t too dark for you
It’s just my days through and through
People always say “he must have no shame”
I just keep telling myself it’s a game.
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5. |
Champagne, yeah!
02:38
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What’s the use in hair gel?
Perpetuating something far from hell
Misleading society
To think differently
About the perceptions of me
Who is Pauly D?
But my hair is all that’s mine
To dictate and define
I can’t take another line
I can’t take any more wine
Champagne, yeah!
Leave me alone and let me be,
A pseudo-confident, bitter and damaged, Pauly D.
I don’t have a phrase, don’t come at me.
Defined by appearance, and superficiality.
But my hair is all that’s mine
To dictate and define
I can’t take another line
I can’t take any more wine
Champagne, yeah!
But there’s something more,
Can’t you see?
Wit! Humour! Intellect!
All in me,
True king of the house,
Pauly D.
But my hair is all that’s mine
To dictate and define
I can’t take another line
I can’t take any more wine
Champagne, yeah!
Are you fucking touching me?
Are you fucking touching me?
Are you fucking touching me?
Are you fucking touching me?
I don’t really care if you are.
I keep my pride in my car.
credits
from T-Shirt Store EP, relea
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6. |
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I’ve got to be the Situation.
Because society dictates it to me
A bore lifted by fluctuation
A bore that no one else can see
The persona of an alpha male
Is becoming incredibly stale
I want to be something more
Than cheap stripper or man whore
Come at me bro
I can’t say no
To this addiction of self-perfection
And endless psychological deception
I put myself above, and before all
I receive and deliver endless vitriol
But for what reason; why?
Is my life mere transience until I die?
There you go with your ego out of control
I own the house for a reason
Try to overthrow me that’s motherfucking treason
I’ll cut you some slack if you say
Mike, I pray that one day I’ll be as good as you
Is that all you can do?
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7. |
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How low can you go
Till you’re nothing anymore
Like an addict to power
I need a fix by the hour
I once commanded all
Delivering endless vitriol
No one ever stood so tall
Now I lie on the floor,
nothing all,
anymore
But that’s me, a being of temporality
Can’t you see I’m cracking at the seams?
They call me the Situation
Autonomous from your realm of stagnation
Perfection
Perfection
Perfection
Psychological quest of deception
Where did you go?
Mike Sorrento
Never got a chance to know the real you
Come back for a second or two
Give me a second or two
I’ll get back to you
Good as new
Someone’s gotta be the bad
I’m gonna do it till I die
Don’t ask why
Cause I’ll just deny you an answer
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8. |
Another Fake Tan
08:33
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On a walk to repent
Stumbling down the pavement
Tripped on a mound
Fallen underground
And I got a pound of insanity per pound of dirt density
A rap in poor form
My lyrics need reform
But I ain’t bothered by your request
In fact, if I may suggest
Open your mind, take my words, and digest
So look at me man,
Spraying on another fake tan
Emptying out another can
Embracing some form of my race
Covering my face
Killing something you respect
In an effort to reject
The paleness of monotony
Replacing it with another layer of conformity
The can hisses and pisses as the mirror fogs up
My eyes twitch as I switch my cap around, grabbing a cup
A disfigured distortion collides into a sub-reflection
Like a midnight punch-on, prompts my introspection
Afraid of what I’m made of
A can, a tan, punctuating a hollow man
The smell of piss frames the scene
With mumbled phrases, subtlety obscene
Offending the ghosts of the day
Somehow, in someway
Tanned figures pass by
Constructing their next lie
Another figure draws me eye
The shadow of some Italian guy
I don’t know about you,
But this feels like Déjà vu,
Like I’ve been here before,
As familiar as the shore
But the sand is white
Contraband and tight-ly packaged in see through bags
Labelled with microscopic tags
I’ve got an urge to snort it all
Ron says I don’t have the gall
But I’m a modern fucking Thrall
And how much lower can I fall?
So look at me man,
Spraying on another fake tan,
Splashing gel through my hair
And I know that you don’t care
But these products are my air
The only façade that I’ve got
To slow my perpetual rot
Like Bukowski and Liquor
The can makes being empty slightly thicker
But I feel the colour smudging off,
As I exhale in a cough
My reflection begins to fade
Revealing a much lighter shade
My tans going away
Like hell for Dante,
But while that guy got up
I’m only gonna drop
To the beat in the club
Waking up in a tub
On someone elses flesh
As I feel my sanity regress
Inexistent credentials to tout
But fuck it, I am all washed out.
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9. |
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I never knew quite how to think
But I feel my decline, as my soul starts to sink.
A shift at the store helps me float another day
But everything it gives goes away.
All this impermanence,
I’m losing track of what tense I’m talking in,
As my mind wears thin.
So, I’ll go out to sea, where no one can say,
And float away while you see another day,
Who cares if I sink, at least I won’t have to think
And the sea won’t judge me, or my blatant misogyny
It’ll take me from Jersey, from hell, severing my last link.
Take me away from the shore,
Take me away from the law,
Somewhere for my frozen heart to thaw,
Let the Situation feel again
I just want to feel
Like I’m still a man.
Always been so far from whole
Once heard about this thing called a soul
A fleeting thought, nonetheless,
That only returns now, with duress
Why bother, if bothering leads to this?
Spending nights in clubs that smell like piss
T-Shirt time, every goddamn fucking night
Even the bottles of whiskey lose their bite.
So I’m floating away, maybe Snooki can see another day
But that’s not what I want,
To wither into a shadow of myself, nothing to flaunt
I’ve got leave, I know I don’t have much longer
Maybe somehow, it’ll make me stronger.
Take me away from Jersey
Take me away out to the sea
Somewhere for me to take it easy
Let me feel again
And please, let me know
That I’m still a man.
Floating away out to sea, where no one can see
Floating away, away from Jersey
Floating out to where I want to be
Floating away out to sea, where no one can see
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10. |
Seaside Heights
08:38
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I’m sick of all these has-beens and mights.
I’ve got to get away from seaside heights.
I know that I need something more.
I’ve got to run away from the shore.
Now even my reflection gives me the frights.
I’ve got to escape from seaside heights.
This place has shaken my very core.
I’ve got to get away from Jersey Shore.
I’ve had it up to here, I can’t take any more
Every leg and limb, is rusted and sore,
The bass gets louder, and shakes the speaker
What doesn’t kill you makes you weaker
But nothing gets deeper than the water,
Rises over your head, as the days get shorter,
I saw the last wave coming in,
As everything begins wearing thin,
The drinks, the sex, the clubs, what a ride;
But now there’s nowhere left to hide.
I’m not a surfer, no sailor, just a motherfucking failure,
And it’s hard to keep my head above Jersey’s rough water.
Gyms, t-shirts, and tans,
Going to clubs, swamped by fans,
A life many would laud, but one I only abhorred,
Since I screwed my first broad,
And cried to someone else’s lord.
How will they reward me, for being so unkind
I see the headline in my mind:
“The Situtation dies and nobody cries”, as I fade to black, as I sing my last track, no one else to attack, no more friendships to sack, no more emotions to lack, no more living a life off-track.
I’ve got quite a knack.
And though I don’t know how,
I feel it’s over now,
with nowhere left to go,
no hoe to blow,
and no more seasons for my show,
have you ever been this fucking low?
There’s nothing I can mend,
with facades and pretend,
without a single fucking friend,
to lend Sitch a hand,
to quote a phrase: “this is the end”.
Sing a song for me, sing a song for Pauly D,
Sing one for Snooki, and one for Sammi,
Sing it for Ronnie, Vinnie, names rhyming conveniently.
And if Jwoww asks, how the Situation got away,
Tell her he was never really there, just waiting for the next wave.
Situation pt. 3 reprise:
25 years on
And now Mike is gone
All I’ve got left is this song
I’m gonna play it all night long
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11. |
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Got no time for the corner boys,
Down in the street makin' all that noise,
Don't want no whores on eighth avenue,
Cause tonight I'm gonna be with you.
'Cause tonight I'm gonna take that ride,
Across the river to the jersey side,
Take my baby to the carnival,
And I'll take you on all the rides,
Sing sha la la la la la sha la la la.
Down the shore everything's alright,
You're with your baby on a Saturday night,
Don't you know that all my dreams come true,
When I'm walkin' down the street with you,
Sing sha la la la la la sha la la la.
You know she thrills me with all her charms,
When I'm wrapped up in my baby's arms,
My little angel gives me everything,
I know someday that she'll wear my ring.
So don't bother me cause I got no time,
I'm on my way to see that girl of mine,
Nothin' else matters in this whole wide world,
When you're in love with a jersey girl,
Sing sha la la la la la la.
And I call your name, I can't sleep at night,
Sha la la la la la la.
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