Diagnostic Error

by OBD-1

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1.
03:20
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03:08
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02:20
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03:58
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02:36
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03:38
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about

Made in the basement of a 500 ft cabin with two screaming kids and a wife. All written, recorded, played, and mastered by me.

credits

released July 4, 2016

J. Siemion

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all rights reserved

about

OBD-1 Detroit, Michigan

Making music since I was a tween. Play guitar, bass, and piano. Took music composition in college.

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Track Name: Big Mess
Top of the clock, time to stop, give me props, i lost the plot a long time ago when the go gos were one in the charts and sartre was still cool and people swam in pools and kids listened to rules, you might say i rule, but it's simply not true, it’s b/c you never knew me, obd-1, son of gun, tons of fun, great nips , tacks of might, trim the sight, pubes on the toilet seat, i’d like you to meet, my favorite meet, his name is morrissey, and he’s the cunt of cunts, last good track was around the time of the Temptations, before the united nations, everyday is sunday, and I know it’s over still i try, i cry in my dreams, scream in the seams, fake bloody noses, tablets with hoses, trained me to be a thoroughbred but now i just feel absolutely dead, hey bro, it’s your arsenal.

You’d be hard pressed to find a bigger mess than obd1 that’s me, wanking it out on a tree, seems things will be what they’ll be, that’s called a tautology, taught to me by a man who remains a mystery, some called him a wizard others a nerd, but i’ll take the former rather than go with the herd
Track Name: Keyboard Warrior
Keyboard warrior, you’re a keyboard warrior
Fuck you, you old cuck

Never met the man, but he apparently knows all about me. Calls me a libtard and tells me to fuck off. Calls me an asshole, all because i made some informed comment about this country, founded on the backs of blacks and the genocide of reds, these are merely facts, fuckface, no need to get your panties in a bunch, you just need a punch in the face, a knife in your belly, and aluminum bat upside your fucking thick skull.

Bleed out all over the pavement.

Save it, give it up, another chump, had enough, the ol cuck gave in to sin “because you have to make this life livable”, Depeche Mode, made a decent album back when St. Reagan was prez, before he forgot who the fuck he was, fuck him and his Iran contra, trickle down economics, freakonomics, a gin and tonic, it’s ironic, isn’t it, that you can’t take a shit outside on a park slide without being arrested by Clyde the park fucking ranger, who manages to make a mess when he wanks all over his desk, I’ll leave the rest up to you, molest, molasses, hittin asses, lower classes, gucci glasses.

Keyboard warrior
Track Name: Autopilot
I saw you at the pub yesterday, you were taking a shit, I was gonna say Hi but I didn’t
You made a joke about my house, insulted my mom, i was calm, until I knocked you fucking out
Take a journey with me down memory lane, feel my unreliquished pain, you weren’t even alive yet, you little fucking twit Too bored to be ignored, prices of perishables soared, flanked by an idiot and a moron, i chose to ignore, Al Gore, give me more, give me more, working at dealership is a chore, I’m floored by your obsessiveness of more, more, more

Life gets away from us, a careening bus going to hell
Flagrant abuse, latin’s obtuse, and you fucking smell
Like shit I might add, you’re sad, and that makes me glad
Skinny jeans are a fad, millennials are a drag, and OBD1 is bad

I didn’t choose this life, i never wanted any strife, but what will be will be, including cancer and Hiv
The semester's almost over, the rabbits are eating clover, and all I hear are lawn mowers all day
The hum of everyday gives comfort, that’s when I drink southern comfort, it makes this pain comfortable

We think we’re in control, but it’s all autopilot baby, there’s no soul
I got a hole in my heart from reading Sartre, I fucking hate polls
L’enfer c’est les autres, my ex girlfriend was a goatface, shit
Olives have pits, roses thorns, I just wanna quit
Track Name: Debt
ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DEBT
ANOTHER 12ER ANOTHER SET
BACK TO GRAVE WHERE I BELONG
JIMMY DEAN GAVE ME THIS SONG

GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU, I NEVER GAVE A SHIT, TIT FOR TAT, FUCK ALL THAT,

ID DO ANYTHING TO MAKE A RHYME, INCLUDING SLIME, A CHILD MIME FOR A LONG TIME, HO
WS THAT FOR SHITE LYRICS, MIGHTY SPIRITED, CARRY AN UZI AND LIGHT UP A FUCKING WALMART, CLEAN HOUSE, FART, CONTROL THE ROACHES, BURY THEM IN COACHES, BUENOS NOCHES, IF YOU COME HERE, BETTER SPEAK AMERICUN FUCKER, WE DON’T NEED NO BEENERS OR DUNE COONS IN THIS FINE LAND, FOUNDED BY WHITES, LIGHTER THAN LIGHT, WHAT A SIGHT, A WHOLE NATION OF WHITE FOLKS, COVERED IN RED FROM MASSACREING THE RED FOLKS, COMMANCHES, APACHES, HAPPY TO HELP, SEE YA, BUT NOT ON YELP, GAVE YOURSELF TO BOOZE, DAMN, YOU LOSE, CASINOS, DAMN, WE LOSE, POOR WHITES AND DUMB DINDUS DONATING ALL THEIR DOE TO THE RED MAN, MAN, WHAT A SHAME, PLAY THE BLAME GAME, WHAT’S YOUR NAME? OBD-1 MUTHA FUCKA, I’M A BAD ASS, BAD AS ANGRY BADGER ON XANAX, BAD AS CRACKED SAX, BAD, BAD AS 48 MODEL T WITH THE AC ON MAX….
Track Name: Welfare King
Meet the welfare king, self-aware, and daring to tell the truth, clogged arteries, blood pressure’s too high, docs got me on nigh a dozen pills, plasma spills, cigarettes kill, but I thought I’d take up smoking again at 41, why not, emphysema is fun, but I’m done with this run, let’s get back to welfare, a subject I dare say people don’t know fuck about, the gubmint ain’t give noone flat out money, honey, so spare you stares when I use my SNAP card, to buy my kids lard, cuz they ain’t getting nuff calories eating brocolli. SNAP’s 2 hundred a month, it’s gone by the first week, and then we’re hunting for squirrels, rabbits, possums, anything that crosses our yard is game, it’s the same every week, paycheck is gone and then I seek other sources of funds, running out of dough is new for me.

Meet the Welfare King

Running out of dough is a new long for me I got paid more for easier work back in 93.

Now I work my ass off 60 hours a week but got nothing to show for it, fuck I’m depresssed, I’ll just sleep, but no, gotta get up at 6 every day to make hay, get burned by cats, sprayed by brake clean, and sweat all fuckin day, G. This ain’t the life I envisioned when I was I was 21 and a legend, at least in my own mind, nevermind, mind your own fucking business, your taxes are going to our military, so we can bomb the Muslims silly, incinerating their women and children and then covering it up with a cracked lens, the media is complicit in spreading the American empire, the walls are cracking, to me it’s a third world country, I live around Detroit, nowhere you’d wanna even drive at night, potholes so big, they’d disable an Abrams M1, sounds like all fun and games, but hitting potholes and bending your rim sucks ass, pure michigan, i hate this fucking place.
Track Name: Nothing Useful to Say
At birth we’re given a one way ticket to the grave. Many of us will get there quick, others will save

It for later, why put it off, bro, liquor is tooo slow and expensive. I’m apprehensive about the bottom shelf shit, it gives me the shits, quick make a rhyme, quit, no i said quit