1. |
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He didn't ask for the darkness but it somehow got into his skin.
No damn good reason, witches brew he drank when he was a kid.
Followed by class photos, smile wide afraid to not fall in.
Mommy's got yer back kid, she brushes hair
and she tucks you in.
Mommy pulls the cap back
big boys take their vitamins.
But that's gone now, when did the turn take.
It was there all along to make him pay for them all;
the times he let it in, confusing it for courage (sturdiness)
But he's trying to learn to let it go.
Did he choose his shadow with some soap
and favored company to blot out his fears
or is it just the way it has to be.
Everyone's so perfect with their fabled lives
and pointed fingers, that throw out an accusing
I told you to leave it at the alter.
you should be like me, it's not gone if it's hiding.
It's not what they know, it's what they choose to show.
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2. |
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Taken in by conversation of strangers who say what they mean
but I can't do the same.
I'm in my head, I'm so busy
defining who I am by the sounds I take in.
She drops her dress as if we're alone,
but someone's playing my game
it can't work this way.
I'm distracted by the voices I can't make sense of.
I keep mine down.
Hearing words in different way,
but I'm unsettled by the words that are never said.
I gave a little of myself and the bastards heard.
They're proud of their device.
But talent needs no toys.
I've never played silly games.
I can't find the meaning soon enough.
So then who am I
Oh God
the blood's spilled over.
The hand that held the needle becomes the rat in his own maze.
What have I created, I'm where they want me.
The phone's unplugged
my voice is only heard through brass.
But this is home.
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3. |
Vacant Places
04:46
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I lost my voice when I cursed my shadow
thinking it informed who I became.
Or cast me in its unholy glow
where I'm absorbed and riding
a train to different vacant places.
God knows I didn't hurt myself on purpose.
I always sleep with the sheets
with holes cut for my eyes.
His old songs get in your head
when you're excited, who dialed you in.
The worst of thoughts have fashioned a flag
to claim this land in your head.
I lost my way but I'm not sure when they kicked in my door
and let their lord lead me astray.
I tripped over cords strewn over your floor
when you writing songs in a voice that
would never be yours.
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4. |
Mosquito Ghost
02:55
|
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There's a hole in the young man's tiny boat
but he's backed by a thousand fleets.
He complains that his knees are wet
as the universe falls at his feet.
Right next to a skinny girl
who's mending a sweater with glue.
He pukes at her toes from the massive amounts of food.
He soils himself with what she used to build a home.
He jerks himself off with the idea that she's alone.
His veins are overfilled but he'll never overdose.
He's the mosquito that never explodes.
Pencil shavings laid out in pieces of his tongue.
he thinks he's the second coming of Christ,
more like Vanilla Ice gone grunge.
His nuclear reactor mouth keeps him glowing in the dark,
he files his arrows his wider,
but he always misses his mark.
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5. |
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You know this town like the back of your hand.
You have a reason for driving down every single road.
Success cannot be measured in fulfillment & content,
but with a broken ruler, in dollars and in cents.
Just under the effects of the south,
neuroses crawling in my head.
You had your chance to enjoy your life,
those days met their end.
Soon my mind will permanently close,
and more attractive limbs will fill out my clothes.
My old tv, with home movies on repeat,
image burned into the screen,
I hope it's remembered that I was here.
Just under the effects of the south,
neuroses crawling in my head.
You had your chance to enjoy your life,
those days met their end.
You've got the right ambition
on all of the wrong paths.
I thought they changed their voice
to match their masks,
but the noose got tighter as they shouted freedom.
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6. |
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Arrival of the king,
he's blowing dust around.
Our bones try hiding back into the ground.
The cheerful can't betray a side of father knows best.
But spared no expense,
just as well I'm out of work.
My job was for the birds.
And I have been replaced
by a suit, a God, and a briefcase.
Doomed by your need to entertain & impress.
Too late to buckle up this plane's already crashed.
Amazed by my own demise.
Flashlights give away our hiding place.
Flashlight.
The power's theirs,
was never ours.
An illusion of control.
Just an imprint in the sand,
the creator just a man.
Now I'm staring up at the sun.
My insides are pulled out from the ground.
I take my rightful place.
I hate to be the one to say
we should have saved the champagne
for a better occasion.
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7. |
Easy Target
03:49
|
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|
I forgot how to dream or how to be clever.
The callouses on my tongue got me spitting out whatever.
Success alludes me, but I'm there in spirit.
I saw myself an easy target,
now I walk below windows.
Chameleon changing colors,
not one he/she could call his/her own.
I'm there in spirit.
Tripping up on caution signs,
now I'm quickly out of here.
I let this guy buy my conversation for 3 bottles of beer.
I forgot how to relax but I should not skip town.
My mind's an airport and my conscience
is on the next flight out.
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8. |
It's All On You, Boy
03:09
|
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|
Who needs confidence when you have all the pity you need.
Who needs reckless abandon, when control is free.
Who would sleep in dark places next to you.
She's playing the part of someone more attractive,
she only looks slightly bigger when we raise our glasses.
My skin would make a great rug,
and unable to speak I'd keep good company.
My only hope is that I'm being vacuumed
this time next spring.
No no wait we're standing up to you,
getting up on all fours. Yeah.
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9. |
Met in Their Twenties
03:37
|
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|
I'm not the man I used to be.
Do invalid things so they don't leave.
I could sleep in a tiny bed and on top of things,
with no place they fit.
I'm building things in my garage,
but collect the sawdust.
Cause it might change it's mind
about the shape it takes,
put back the wood that can't be replaced.
Tomorrow night I'll be out with the guys,
but first I'll get some tape & hide
our suitcases with the keys inside;
obscured by a fold lost in design.
I can't be clever, my friends think I'm dumb.
Always on my shoulder, Salacious Crumb.
Afraid to lose the life I gave up
when I willingly died.
I am no longer a man,
just an idea my parents once had.
They're so forgetful in their later years;
it's not my fault I found somebody that
wears my socks at the same time as me.
Siamese twins, met in their twenties.
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10. |
Weight of my Rest
04:37
|
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|
Pushing through the ground beneath my feet,
crushing, increasing gravity.
Until my bones bend,
I fold to fit what's left.
Poked holes to breathe;
a forgotten pet.
Beneath a damning sky,
that sits accusingly,
and scoffs as I begin to form the perfect "V."
And with my ribs pulled tight, they become the strings
to make a human harp that's out of tune
and the forces that be, rejoice.
Rejoice, they want my misery.
It means nothing, caused by nothing.
They'll find my teeth in the rocks.
Just stay, and give the best parts of yourself.
When it's done, will there be anything else.
When the scraps are dropped and we start rationing,
I worry that I'll lose the thrill of what I need.
So my rest starts to weigh in on me.
and what brought me peace
reflects the bending inside me.
The weight of my rest.
|
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