The Casual Terrorist Newcastle, UK

The Casual Terrorist is Cj Reay, a 24 year old human animal.

These are bittersweet songs sung by a nervous child in the throes of an existential, post-structuralist crisis.

Up the North East queer punx.
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Track Name: We Are Nothing
In a science class in 1997 i learnt that the average life span of a fly was just under 11 days,
but now, 12 years down the line, that little fact doesn´t mean too much to me
And in a recent report it was found that the average life span of a man in the UK was just over 76.1 years of age,
but when a close friend of mine dies 55 years before that date, well these little facts, mean fuck all to me

Yet we talk about philosophy and we try to understand, we put pieces of cloth on sticks and claim our rights to land,
and we talk about culture yeah we love to feel so cultured, we love to look so smart, and we talk about existence and then we talk about resistance and we all try to play our part
We talk of solidarity, we talk about community, we all talk about keeping that flame well lit, and we all talk about freedom, peace and anarchism yet we still treat each other like shit
We talk about religion and we talk about war y´know I feel like i´ve had this conversation a million times before, and we talk about God and we talk about the soul but we´re all just trying to find ways to fill up that hole that sits in our hearts, in our hearts, in our hearts and in our heads. In our hearts, in our hearts, in our hearts, in the spaces next to us as we lie in our empty single beds.

But we can look up at the sky for as long as we like but it´ll never explain as to why we all feel so fucking miserable. Or why I feel so tired all the time. Or why when people ask me how I am I feel the need to talk shit and say stuff like ´yeah, im great, im good, i´m doing fine´, im not, im not, im really not.

Y´know maybe if we could just – shut the fuck up, well then we might find a way to actually have something decent to say.

We talk about the future and we talk about the past, we talk about the present and making all these moments last. We take photographs, we record videos, we try to stop time or at least make it feel slow, and when we find love we never want it to end, put rings on fingers, get married and pretend that we´re all so happy that we´re all so fine, we smile for the camera and forget that time is moving on, moving on, moving on, moving on. A sharp intake of breath, oh its gone. It´s gone, its gone, it is all fucking gone.

We are nothing. We are nothing. And this is all far too embarassing.

I´m so sick of all these thoughts running through my head, I hide beneath the sheets and look at the clock next to my bed; it says “5 a.m”. I miss you, I dont think I will ever see you again.