The Retreat

by Jack Dean



For those who want to run away sometimes.


released September 1, 2015

Written, produced and recorded by Jack Dean except where mentioned. We believe the use of samples constitutes Fair Dealing under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Copyright of all samples remains with the original authors.




Jack Dean Exeter, UK

MC, poet and beatmaker Jack Dean was born in Tooting, raised in the southwest UK, and likes to wander all over the place telling stories of love, loneliness, and nostalgia. He has toured slams, theatres and festivals internationally and holds the highest Pac-Man score of anyone he knows. ... more

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Track Name: StingCray
y yo its jack fuckin dean sir I'm about to vent my spleen up
So it’s best you just don’t say shit likeMmarina

Fuck forty fathoms I be going way deeper
till even the angler fish bang this shit out their speakers
My whole life I’ve been underground like marineville
But still feel like none of these aquaphibians are my equal

Don’t care if King Titan sends a thousand demons
Ill be jamming with sebastien smoking that seaweed up
Could fuck a mermaid if she don't go under a C-Cup
Cos’ I’m all about that bass ‘tell phones turn the beat up

In your head phones in your house in your fiat two seater
I’m a moron I’m a twatt, I’m your every day geezer

and I'm not really into objectifying women believe it
but on tracks like these you just got to be an eejit

but anything could happen in the next half hour
We could dwell on deities or the relics of past power
talk about how the media makes us dumb blind vegetables
or just have a muthafucking punchline festival

and sock em in the jaw with the raw made legible
like I wasn’t the kid in school who couldn’t even fetch a ball
fuck it on these tracks I’m the jock
and everyones lunch moneys get yanked on the spot

fall back from the shock we can scrap on the kick drum
but only one kid’s gonna emerge the victim

and no-one’s telling teacher what we did son
I bring the troy tempest on these big dumbs

Never been that good at anything except for making these words sound just right
Struggling for meaning in a northern town that hardly ever sees sunlight
And I try not to be uptight but rapping these days is like bringing a knife to a gun fight
when they spend a billion on trident but haven’t a fiver for those just trying to survive

Fuck’em all I be cruising like Terror Fish on the ocean blue
They can send all types of cops to the protest but can’t change my open view
Done a lot of stupid shit just trying to find a way out of being voiceless
But I stand by rap and other bad life choices
Track Name: Miss You
Three sheets to the wind
Seas go choppy wherever I've recently been
I'm somewhere in a small town locking the tour down
Waiting for my dreams to begin

Deep in the wings singing off key
Sleeping on sofas living off beans
Shit my parents are both doctors hope they know this open heart surgery isn’t just me giving of steam

Everybody wants to be a DJ
Everybody wants to be an mc
Which leads to a thousand amateurs gigging every weekday
So no one gives a shit if your trying to get Ps

Beats on blast hop another rail
All ties chopped forgotten on the trail
Where promoters treat you livestock
Make you a pawn in economies of scale

So if I seem distant I usually am
Can't lay down any roots in this land
All these acquaintances fade into paintings of faces I cannot maneuver to grab

I know, tiny violins right?
But still check out the places I've been right
New York to Old York this cannot just be me having a lack of insight

Text from my girl friend says where are you actually at
Try to text back and my battery's flat
Wish I could just run a cup on a string to her ear and say soon ill be back to the flat

Cos when the anxieties swoop in
and I wonder if I should still exist
I just think of us catching the next game of thrones together,
cos damn girl you are missed, if you only knew


The view from your city's perpetually bizarre
A Dali painting stretched among the stars
An I’m trying to get this Monet
and leave an impression on the heart

And big part of me doesn’t want to give a
fuck about these cheap gigs when I could be with the
woman of my dreams and it gets me real bitter
but I know mum didn’t raise no quitter

So I’m bopping through this street
while the honest people sleep
freaking out about the future
that is promised to be bleak

I don’t need their fancy stuff
all their objects they can keep
but I think I’ll flip my wig if people still don’t hear
what I’m trying to speak

Everyones born an artist we just
struggle to remain one that’s what Picasso said
Guess I’m just fighting the world for the right
to remain a child if that’s correct

But I’ve picked stories from the drains
thrown them to the sky like flare guns flashing red
You show me a five year
that can do that I’ll give you mad respect

Text from my girlfriend Says where are you literally at
Who is this girl up on twitter and that
Singing your praises she doesn't look like a reviewer to me can you give me the facts

Fact is there's only one thing that I think
of when I'm worn out and pissed
And that's of coming right back to the home that we made together
cos damn girl you are missed, if you only knew
Track Name: Work
Yeah I grew up posh, bitch get done with that,
Don’t matter if my mum ra like the thunder cats
All that matters is I batter when I run the track
I’m a middle class dragon like benedict cumber batch

No Khan but still come with wrath
Born in the Big Smoke where the hunters clash
Walk through my old london gaffe with a bunch of cash
The mandemll get you jumped or stabbed

And I aint one of those, but still my funds are whack
Bear fruit but my lifes one big hungry gap
These austerity bell ends take a lump of tax
And spend it all on some morally stunted twatts

Fill the pockets of these hobbits I should plunder that
I should rob Goldman For for a hundred Sacks
Run it back to the nurses and the undergrads
Tell a banker put his bonus in the fucking bag, understand?


I’m like trotsky meets Gibran meets a mutherfuckin nerd son
roll with purveyors of purgatory and perversion
roll through your city past grey skies that worsen
atlas shrugged so now I gotta bear the burden

Zeus sent thunderbolts down into my sternum
So can’t stop ’til I’ve reached every person
Flipped their wig and turned them to piece of copper
run this DC help their heart beat free like beta blockers

Back once again with the ill behaviour
No cop water gun’s gonna kill the flame bruh
They’ll bulldoze your life just to build their paper
Like the shopping centres desecrating fields of nature

bombs over Bradford a generation is shattered
The winged monkeys flapping through nights gone blacker
But I still spit that greek fire til I’m knackered
cos the system thinks I’m nothing but a slacker, I’m back to
Track Name: Hospital
Yellow eyes in the woods
Gruffalo teeth in the pies that I cook
Delirious deluded rhymes that I push
Like salamander tears from the mind of a crook

Fuck those who might have mistook
Real for the fuckry they do for baksheesh on the hook
Real music from a pile of indecipherable mush
Real freedom for the right to be shook

Seen grown men flip like fried eggs
melting in the pan of a fire head dialect
I’ve seen women turn to baubles with a shine
that reflects off all the awful of a torvald in his prime

Who ain’t allured by the dolls house
who ain’t inured when they lure all the trolls out
tonight at midnight the ugly bug ball
where our inner roaches dance from the window to the wall

Bring ragnarok on the sub-optimal cos
Kick it all day never drop the ball cos
Culture got the brain in toxic maul but still
So take his ass straight to the hospital because

No sleep, flow so deep
from a house where the damp makes a slow slow creep
the whole land slides beneath the water table
soon the kraken will cut cords and cables on the porch of babel

There’s a cloud over my peers
and I talking bout some nude Jennifer Lawrence pics
I’m talking a shroud we’ve had for years
and howl that appears over the whole necropolis

running through the city like a dying man
run through these bars like a shitty diet plan
I should run through the bosses with a sword
but till then I just run these beats by the hoard

after all they’re often the only thing
that keep me from running out of fucks to give about the global spin
and though the thought of no-one hearing them is sobering
it’s not enough to stop me from hammering codas in

Bring ragnarok on the sub-optimal cos
Kick it all day never drop the ball cos
Culture got the brain in toxic maul but still
So take his ass straight to the hospital because
Track Name: Blanket Fort
They say we aren't supposed to have feelings
And if they ever appear, then we can't be open to speak them
All I hear is man up as if that gender was higher
And that's a big golden trophy for all us of us men to acquire

I never really got that
I don't drink ale or watch football
I'm sitting here with this ginger beer in my pink hoody I look awesome
And sometimes I do cry I don't see what that makes me a puss for
At least I'm brave enough to say this stuff with no macho agenda to push you're sure to catch me

With A Molotov and a valentine
Baby Sign this, light this lets throw them both at the house of Duncan banatyne
No bag of hype, but won't stop till all they drop is bath
bombs over Palestine
That's gurt lush they can't hurt us

I'm putting these words up you can call em my first crush
And for that non violent revolution we are true berserkers
Throw a daisy chain around around the gravy train they nurture
Because over silver we prefer love


They say we aren't supposed to keep dreaming
Those desires for adventure simply aren't appropriate scheming
All I hear is grow up as if older was better
Like a cult of the

0pof which were told to be members

But I built you this blanket fort its got super soakers on the parapet
Bubble machines in the fountain but the best part hasn't happened yet
Were about to go and let a jar of fireflies loose over the rooftops
If that makes me immature you can give a fuck cos I do not

You plot but God chuckles til he's wheezy
I mean he made the duck billed platypus how serious can he be?
And Jesus said if we copied the children the. we would live more freely
So just who is this performance of dignity for really?

I really don't have the answers as I'm as stumped as you
Are we a bunch of manchildren or pioneers of something new?
But if the future doesn't have more cuddles and cartoons
That's something of which I cannot be a part dude, I'm ready
Track Name: Lost Things
Somewhere, in a city that bows its head
On an afternoon that slowly splutters out of breath
In a church ringed by taxis and wrangled by streets
Walk down the knave and light a candle for me

And make it to saint anthony, the patron saint of lost things
Of the keys that dived beneath cushions when no-one was watching
Of the credit cards entombed in machines in high streets
Of the balloons taking off from where earth and sky meet

And of the people, who wonder these gentrified hamlets
Like starships troopers on a petrified planet
Who slip through the cracks, through the registers and forms
spat out of institutions past the measure of the norm

Space invaders, in neat yellow rows,
where the cannon is the future and its speed ever grows
And our dreams end up blown out the night by the second
leave a pixelated resin on the dimming stage of heaven

Times change we used to be sent against the hun
we’d be sleeping set against a sweeping serenade of guns
and now two million heads are bowed in a different line
in a job centre barracks with no rum rations given this time

and a kaiser with a floppy haired helmet
says it’ll be over by christmas and they really can’t help it
and the oligarchs line their forts with barbed wire teeth
out in no mans land that’s where you’ll find me

with a bandolier a 2;1 and a random tear,
and a locket with saint anthony’s image branded clear
the saint of rogue fivers buried in coat fibers
of cats that roamed wider than that your postcode’s cipher

And of the people with no fixed bed or fireplace
who hang off the edge with pupils that dilate
who look for madness and find it in all the right places
whose minds' stasis is fuelled by substance of high grades

and I am not one of them, but I float along these rails
between jobs between friendships between trenches of the failed,
I will find my own way between mud and the craters
and leave my mark if only in a puddle of vapour

and so, if you don’t fit in, if your identity is troubled and frayed
if the bosses and the rozzers come to smother your faith
if the neoliberal machine has you covered in chains
then join me, godly or godless let us huddle and pray

in a bombed out church with the soaring chimes
of a choir of lost boys taken before their time
we will light our tawdry bibles and p45s
on a bed of candles that form a scorching pyre

To saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things
of receipts that fly on soft wings across zebra crossings,
of ancient egyptian cities that sleep beneath the waves
of snowflakes falling on secret graves

and of my people.
Track Name: Spring
This is me real name no gimmicks no chain no image no shame no timidness
No heaven above us only the vanilla sky where the ozone buzzes
No fucking clue what I’m doing but I might as well get up on these lines until the day I go under
No higher meaning, and that leaves some weeping but for me that leaves a world to discover

I can't be a doctor like my brother, fly in a chopper rent a big house and travel all the globe
I can't be like Dizzee rascal amake two good albums at the start of my career and then coast
I can't go on Lord of the Mics make a bunch of gun signs and talk about mans on the road
But I hit the road like Wiley coyote’s behind me and don't stop until the people know

Until I find a place where no cars go where the arcade fires burn bright like the light of the times when
I sat playing tekken with my bros before the street fights and riots brought by that time crisis
A place where my kids won't have foot the bill that was handed us
So they can breathe clean air and not go at each other’s throats in pursuit of the glamorous

I saw it in a dream, and the writing on the trees said dean don’t panic or lack faith

Like the shadows that lengthen in the month of september when you were born the darkness cascades
But it will recede with the growth of the seeds you should know that your dreams work in that exact way
The resurrection of Persephone the one thing thats definitely assured is that we will have change I believe in that place

And the Spring is not just for the arabs, it’s for anybody out there feeling embarrassed
By the way we hand the same rents over to the great great great great grandchildren of the same barons
By the fields of compassion left barren the debt that’s toxic like sarin
The commons handed over to the heir apparent until the lion and the unicorn bare their talons

but it's cold in the north man you could swear climate change doesn’t come here
But they're gonna frack until the water supply is on fire and the heat is on for me and all my peers
You know nothing Jon Snow we grind hard but still have to shop in Primark for clothes made by slaves
They tell me winter is coming so I move like a wilding never finding any place to stay

I don't know what to say. Tell people I write for living and they look at me like I'm no longer sane
It's a fucking job like any other it has it's ups and it's downs please get up off my case
I'm not a fucking genius I don’t have secret I do the best I can like all of the rest
Some days it's fine and others it feels like a ten ton weights about to fall on my chest

The sword of Damocles swinging in the air, every step I take it lingers well prepared
No shortage of nights kept up with my mistakes tap dancing on my brain like Rogers and Astaire
Times when Id give you every penny that I have just a chance to escape the psyche where I dwell
But as cliched as it may sound when it's all said and done I can’t be anybody but myself

So this is me