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by Fenn Macon

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These are some covers I've made in the last year or so

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released April 1, 2017

Harrison Thurman, Kate West, and Julien Baker wrote their songs and then I covered them

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Fenn Macon Worcester, Massachusetts

In which one boy confronts his sadness through sonic exploration.

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Track Name: This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (Highwayyys)
Two years ago today you said that you loved me and I wonder where that love went
Cause I couldn't stand to think that there was something we could've done but maybe nothing we could've changed

Cause I've got a lot of good things going on in my life right now
But you know better than the rest how I always seem to ruin a good thing

Two weeks ago today we slept in the same bed for the very first night and you should know by now not to expect anything more from me

Cause I've got a lot of good things going on in my life right now
But someone should have told you by now that I always seem to ruin a good thing
Track Name: Bad Luck (Kate West)
And you’re too good, you’re too good, can’t you see the state I’m in?
As you are, I don’t deserve you, if you change, how could I want you?

It’s bad luck, I just can’t win. It’s my luck, I just can’t win.

Darling you’re too sweet, you’re too sweet, it’s time that you forget about me.
Pretend I never held your hand, we just can’t be together again.
Well if the change ends up to me I suppose we’ll have to wait and see
But darling don’t go holding on, I prefer to be alone

You’re too good, you’re too good, can’t you see it’s just not fair?
I only call you when I’m lonesome or if I need a ride somewhere.
Well if the change ends up to me I suppose we’ll have to wait and see
But darling don’t go holding on, I prefer to be alone.
I was born to be alone, I have earned a life alone.

You’re too good, you’re too good, can’t you see the state I’m in?
As you are, I don’t deserve you, if you change, how could I love you?
It’s bad luck, I just can’t win. Blame my luck, I just can’t win.
I just can’t win.
Track Name: Sprained Ankle (Julien Baker)
Wish I could write songs about anything other than death
But I can't go to bed without drawing the red, shaving off breaths;
Each one so heavy, each one so cumbersome
Each one a lead weight hanging between my lungs
Spilling my guts
Sweat on a microphone, breaking my voice
Whenever I'm alone with you, can't talk but
"Isn't this weather nice? Are you okay?"
Should I go somewhere else and hide my face?
A sprinter learning to wait
A marathon runner, my ankles are sprained
A marathon runner, my ankles are sprained