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MATTHEW LOYD

Angola, IN

about +
I sometimes find myself at a loss for words. There are some things that cannot simply be described. My father was a taxi driver, and my mother was a teacher. Dad taught me to drive and Mom taught me to think, and sometimes I find myself doing both simultaneously, lost in some sort of reality that has been placed in front of me. The soul of a song fascinates me much more than the composition, and sometimes I wish I could simply create something fantastic that stands on its own without the need for any sort of traditional sound. My eyes are blue gray, and my skin is pale white. My hair used to be blond, but now it's mainly just grease all the time. I have a strong problem with whiskey and cigarettes, and I find myself putting much more into myself than I ever give out. Sometimes I just walk down the street late at night completely drunk on the night air and the silence. I learned how to play a few chords, and I write my songs on the backs of medical records that explain just what the men in white think are wrong with me. I don't really want to go anywhere but the past. But I'm going somewhere regardless. If you want to find me it won't be too hard. I'm your little brother and your friend, the bum drinking on the street, and the kid far too young to be roaming the highways. Maybe I'll see you someday.
music +
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