you say i'm so good yet you push and pull me apart. draped over your skin, you wear me like a fur - catwalk of cruelty pushed hautily with the emphasis of your hands. you will know my space, unoccupied and crawling to the chopping block. decapitate the yearn of that... wouldn't you like to know. that is the only card i have left.
i won't let you get all of the best of me. call my bluff.
We shake hands like it’s the first time we’ve said goodbye. We press restart, the button begging to be pressed again. And then we look at each other and shrug, “what did we do?”, you ask. We set a time capsule in motion, we reversed the past. Like that moment when you first wake, and roll over to see the sun. It encapsulates the space, our energies bursting the barrier as time becomes undone. Each day a new chance. A new yet familiar embrace, like déjà vu, it makes us pause.
deep within the folds of my mind you are tossing and turning, your limbs burning holes in my predetermined idea of what this was supposed to become. you've taken my whole disposition and tossed it as far up as you could, and as the pieces come raining down on your head you aren't sure if you should run for cover or get drenched. just submit to the downpour.
i am submerging my hands deep within my surface, pulling out the roots to expose the most tender pieces of me.
I wish I could take a big bucket and scoop you up right out of that trough i'd watch you stumble to find your ground and give yourself a shake off. you'd yell at me about how you were practicing your form but to me you were squirming, just like a soiled worm. you fight the waves instead of submit to them it could be a weightless communion but instead it's wasted, like a drunken reunion.
you put me in that box, then told me to step out of it. two bodies and four corners, you let me pick up the props. your mess strewn among the furniture. your breath floating in my proximity. i wish that i had some solace. i just keep trying to find sleep's nudge.
cause i lay alone at night lonely, although i prefer it this way. it's value surpassed your warmth somewhere along the final say.
we were like an epic written backwards in two time. a simple fallacy following: book, chapter, verse one. but i miss you more than words can say. and i wish that i lay where you lay.
visits with flowers in hand are something new to me. they seem to wither before i step foot in the door. nothing is perfect enough for how i wanted to make it for you. and now i'm jaded in the worst possible way. apathy's got her hands all over me.
as cold as it may be, i still prefer it this way. diminishing your warmth somewhere along the final say.
come home and my guitar has nothin to say to me i recoil from all my friends and then i'm in misery been so long since i've been held really since i was his probably just need to be held that's probably all it is
course, then i think of my dad who time travels mostly now back to when he was free and holding out hope somehow who sits all day in a line of wheelchairs against a wall inventing ways to play out time like us all like us all
to all the people out there tonight who are comforting themselves if you should happen to see my light you can stop and ring my bell i'm just sittin here in this sty strewn with half written songs taking one breath at a time nothin much going on nothin much going on
little flashing zero on my answering machine rats scratching at my brain brain shuffling its feet yes i have my father's heart it may or may not keep on trying can't really tell you what it is keeps me this side of that dark line
but i'm not there to take care of him and i'm not here to take care of me i'm going outside to watch the house burn down across the street i'm going outside to watch the house burn down across the street
to all the people out there tonight who are comforting themselves if you should happen to see my light you can stop and ring my bell i'm just sitting here in this sty strewn with half written songs taking one breath at a time nothin much going on nothin much going on
Flipping through the pages, I am highlighting the most important points. The words, they come in buzz, dismissing all the he and she "wrotes"... What's in a name really? All that comes to mind is popularity. Big neon lights flashing, and big bold font fronting the lines. The bodies they represent are no where to be seen except with the flash photography of fat checks. Like their over-fed faces. With a signature they make all of the starved dissapear. Like magic pixie dust, money.... it gets the best of us. It's an aphrodisiac, a priority, a cheap thrill at the tip of our fingertips. But it makes the world go 'round, and baby who knows what would happen if we stopped spinnin'.
crumbled a pack with ten left to go, yet the only word that keeps coming out of your mouth is "slow". A year gone by, and so much more than what you said it would be. Seems like this time of year, everyone is circulating while i'm still calculating. I lay at night and dream half awake. i wish everyone knew the true art in counting. instead of counting down, counting forward, counting inside out. Try counting your internal clock pounding in your chest. Cause nothing seems to flow like it used to. Not out of my lips or fingertips. But I try, like we all do each day, I try to find a way to carry my weight, plus the weight of some others. Sometimes I fall, other times I cross the line. But the only thought that keeps racing in my head is "just don't trip".
I just love this band, lately this song is on repeat...
Nutshell We chase misprinted lies We face the path of time And yet I fight And yet I fight This battle all alone No one to cry to No place to call home Oooh ... Oooh ... Oooh ... Oooh ... My gift of self is raped My privacy is raked And yet I find And yet I find Repeating in my head If I can't be my own I'd feel better dead Oooh ... Oooh ... Oooh ... Oooh ...
pensive
sad
drained
bitchy