1. |
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I'm Driving to my PO box
but forgot the key on my furniture back home. I'm driving without an ID,
hope no one pulls me over in this small town. I've never lived in a small town before,
I have always been somewhere
at least ten miles from the city.
It's easier to explore all the good in me before, but now being sad is all I have a map of:
at least thats how it feels to me.
What's the word for
when other folks learn how to be you but better: “Jelousy”.
What is the term for when you learn you need to start over “repeat after me”
Today I am the fool, it seems. At least thats how it feels to me.
I've done it all wrong my entire life: next year I turn 30 and I am still dirty, sleeping on the floor.
This is not a song
about how I have no regrets.
I've made enemies and I've made demons
out of people who could have been my friends, and it's all my fault. This is not a song
about how I have no regrets.
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2. |
The Flood
03:36
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How to win an argument with a friend:
give them the last word before they begin speaking. How to win an argument with a friend
you never want to see again, just walk away.
I was the last straw that broke the camel's back,
but you said some things that you just cant take back. I was the last straw that broke the camel's back,
and now it's all crumbling down just for you.
The Ark was what we were promised but the flood was all that we got,
and the books all constantly remind us the meek will inherit the rock:
but the strong are always the ones who forgot.
A cute karabu says:
“Every ship that I ever pick
is a ship that is already sinking”. I say back to them:
“Every ship is sinking,
as soon as they hit the water”.
Oh, I won't draw my starcharts for you anymore!
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3. |
Second Forever
04:20
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If you forget how to build your houses, I will stand by you.
We'll stand by the plans we made when we were kids, they'll say:
“Start with foundations, and end with the roof!” In between you can do whatever you choose.
Someday you will ask me:
“Why are there so many pictures
of my family in this factory?”
Somehow I'll try so hard not to cry, because now that I've finally found you
I find myself to be afraid of walking on ice. Now that I finally found you,
I'd rather not let our memory die.
I might not believe in forever yet,
but whenever I think of forever its you.
Someday you will ask me: “How do I escape the weight of all of this gravity?” Somehow, I'll try so hard
not to fly away myself.
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4. |
Barbed Wire Song
03:21
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I've have yet to meet an Emo Revival Band who ever gave a damn about me.
except for The Hotelier
but all these pop punk kids
in this fucked up world could kill me.
“But that's alright, I'll survive” I'll say and make it out to the otherside where there's a world
where I won't get burned
just because I am a vampire in the sun. “Oh wait there's no sun, oops!
I guess that means that I live in hell, Oh well, what the heck,”
Id ask the devil what to do next, but:
The Devil won't make your band good right now,
and God will not make your music great in the long run.
So pray to both your lungs, if you still have them. (or even just one) Pray you can run.
Whether its fast and far,
or distracted and without meaning.
Whether your flying free as a bird,
or if you've beentrapped inside that same old
god damn burg: a town they dared to call a city.
Well my friend: there is magic on the road,
and there is magic should you choose to stay at home. That's why they rhyme,
it's because the grass is always greener on the other side. (unless it isnt)
I have sung so many songs written about writing off ladders, but the tallest ladder
thats the hardest to fall
is my own.
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5. |
Bitter Punk
03:30
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He can't just be happy for his friends,
and the luck or hard work their success has earned them. He just cant love all the awards.
He says the awards shouldn't even
be there in the first place,
or the second,
or the third.
He says it should be an even playing field,
but really he just wishes he would be asked to play.
It's not that he doesnt believe in all the games:
it's that he just never got picked.
He wishes he could cheer em all on from the sidelines, rubbing dirt on his knees
and rubbing dirt on his shoulders,
to make it look like he was in the game.
Instead he gets jelous and envious,
and sings songs about getting left behind. He is embaressed and married to the idea that he cant ask for any help.
Being happy for them is never enough because he is a bitter punk.
First getting older meant getting mad. Now getting old meant he got tired
of playing the game in between waiting and trying to reach out
to the others who were never reaching back. He could be happy for what he has,
instead of being sad for what he has not. He's Starting to learn that he has got a lot, that he is holding onto.
The bitter punk is me.
It's just easier to think of all my flaws as some other guy,
but I'll stop using he
as the pronouns to escape responsibility for all my shitty feelings.
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6. |
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Someday a man will come for me:
he'll wanna kill some faggots
and he'll stalk me up and down the street, and then hell leave me be.
Until another man decides:
he wants to kill some faggots
and this time he even shows me the knife, and then he leaves me be.
This is what self defense looks like.
Another man makes a plan:
to go and kill a faggot and
he breaks my arm and breaks my nose, and makes me bleed with all his bros.
And they will stop after awhile, and I will run and hide and cry inside a church where hopefully no one bothers me.
This is what self defense looks like.
Someday a man will come for me:
to go and kill a faggot
and he'll stalk me up and down the street, and then hell leave me be.
Another man makes a plan,
to go and kill a faggot and
this time he shows me the knife and then he leaves me be.
But this time
I've had enough
of men who try
to rough me up,
so I chase him to his car
and start to act irrationally.
I bash him in his nose and mouth,
and then he takes out a gun.
He shoots me in the stomache and I die.
This is what self defense looks like.
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7. |
Grey Mourning Tunnels
03:12
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Lately I've been thinking about how we both will die,
and its always us both dying together.
Sometimes I hope
that you'll expire first
so you don't have to be alone,
but then I would be all by myself. Im not that strong,
to be on my own
and have a happy story
with a sad ending.
I dont want our love to be a song that I wrote
in my head while I was drifting off to sleep
that I was afraid to get up and write the words down, because id wake you up with the sounds of my clumsy feet. Then, in the morning Id forget.
As we expire, Id start to cry-
as you start down your tunnel and so do I. I'd cast a spell
to make sure that Id find you again,
on the otherside.
I'd try every trick in that big old book! I would pray to god and hail satan, swim across that great white nothing just so that I could see your face again. Because I dont really know
what scares me more:
parting forever,
or dying not knowing that we ever lived.
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8. |
Shine
05:36
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This is the same old god damn song,
written about someone who stayed real young.
“Stay Gold” they say,
“But if you're ever gonna fade away,
bury us some of your shines down where we can find em, and let them glow, and let them grow”
What is time, but the time since you drove away on that gold and silver plated chariot
hermes drives?
The Wheels they whine
as they turn burning through the sky,
“Try to drop us down some of that light while you fly, and let it glow, and let it grow”
Every time I am silent
I am not running away,
and every time I am breathing is one I still have yet to say: “Oh Hermes,
you can come for me
if you want, but you should not.
But, oh if you come,
will you please shut off the sun,
so I that can see the light at my feet!
I get to watch them glow,
I get to watch them grow!”
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9. |
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This is just a way for me
to be much bigger than I am:
A simple little ritual
or spell I cast for confidence,
“If I try to shuffle on
the other side of random chance, I will pick up the same card.” because I am The Hanging Man.
My body, it was stolen from me
as I drifted above the rain.
I fell down in every drop
and crashed my body into the ground again. I yelled out to every person,
“Can't you hear me? I am here in pain!” But they could never hear me
because I am The Hanging Man.
We are always taped together
with no single solid plan.
The hexes that bind our blood sever any godful piece of sand,
“But I was never meant to be
a child full of tiny little hands!”
Oh they will never find me
because I am The Hanging Man.
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10. |
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No one will ask you to leave,
they will simply leave the door open a little longer.
When the ghosts in your house,
like mothers,
will scream to shut the front door at every moments notice. “Dont let the draft get in”,
they'll say.
But there is no roof on this house,and it has been snowing all winter long. The wolves will nip at your heels when you come and go,
but the ghosts will weep rivers of their upbringings,
how the illness in their teeth
keeps them gnawing at bones like broken tree branches its not their fault,
the ghosts will cry,
I used to be sick with wolf myself.
That makes it better for awhile,
knowing that such an sage lives within these walls.
Of your home you will start to speak
softer and softer,
Until you can barely breath out the dreams
you used to sing so loudly.
Travelers will find you on a map,
and you will smile warmly and nod,
but remind them to shut the door behind them
and not to wear hats indoors:
The wolves don't like men who wear hats indoors,
the ghosts don't either.
You stopped wearing your hat a long time ago,
the one that kept you warm after the roof went away,
you convinced yourself that canvassing your shoulders and back with coat upon coat
would stop the headcolds from coming.
But they never stop coming.
Until eventually the rotating rules
flip to the left again
in way you do not understand,
like a chessboard made up of squares
with all the colors of the rainbow,
but no checkmate.
You have broken another rule,
and you see the door standing just a bit more ajar, left open for you to walk out.
You will never be ejected from this game,
you will only be made to feel
like the only way to lose
is to keep playing.
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11. |
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I know that I hung by rope on that windy tree,
for nine whole cold nights. by my feet
On top of those trees,
which nobody knows
from which roots they rise to meet me.
They didn't bring bread
or a glass of wine,
I soon lost my streangh
and looked down for a time.
I took up the letters
and they screamed stories at me, and I fell back from there
The stories were sad
and the letters were true, its hard to shut your eyes when the villain is you.
We all have stones to cast
and all crosses to bear.
You can never clean them all up, you can only knock down a few.
For carpenters sake, we've nine houses to build before we can create
a safe haven for you.
I took up the letters
and they screamed their stories at me, and I fell back from there
I cried down for help
with no answer in sight,
I tugged on the rope-
and pulled myself out of hell for awhile.
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12. |
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Is the grass is not cut
winding up the dirt road?
Are the trees all burnts up?
Are they rotten and old?
Or, are they freshly planted, ready for the next harvest season?
The only real clear view
is from the top of the mountain of your dead self.
Are the reindeer all starved? Is there plenty of food?
Is it a place they call art? Can you feel the mud through your shoes?
Is the the path you walk hard?
Or, was it really all smooth all along?
The only real clear view
is from the top of the mountain of your dead self.
So, when you look down
your pits of despair:
You can pull back the shades of your skin and pull out the strands of your hair,
so all you have is your eyes
and all they can do is just stare, because:
The only real clear view
is from the top of the mountain of your dead self
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13. |
Feast For Crows
03:32
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It's a feast for crows
it's wearing wolfs skin
without ever taking it off the wolf.
It was always your skin
the skin you're born in,
but you tried to hide inside the wool that wrapped around your eyes to hide
yourself from yourself.
It's small feathers and small flowers gathered on the ground.
It's the moon and how it changes you when the big fall comes around.
It's wearing jeans until you cant see how they are faded anymore. “Cause you outta know,
you aint welcome here.”
Barbwire might roll up your legs
and pinch your skin and scratch your face: and that might be how you feel
every single day.
It's a sliver in your skin:
a mark you can't begin to understand, something you did yourself
to please somebody else.
Sometimes it's better to trust
the devil that you don't know
than go with the devil you do. Sometimes it's ok to scream,
“I don't want you anywhere near me!” for any reason!
When You figure out when all your dreams werent real
and everybody knew, and no one told you....
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14. |
Bury Me Barefoot
04:31
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You're a little like the tall grass, standing here, next to me:
“You know you're something else”. This moment is serene,
I don't know what I've been waiting for: a lover or a friend.
I just want to break free.
Oh wait, I remember:
Just who it is that I've been waiting for, the head of a family.
When you left us
my father sang me a song:
of his father getting up off his knees.
I just want to break free.
So, bury me barefoot
so I can feel the soil beneath my toes, and run when its time to go.
I am you, I am because of you: it's because of you I sing,
and now I finally know
I am not the speaker
I am the instrument.
I just want to break free
You're a little like the tall grass: standing here behind me,
you are nothing like me
you're something else.
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15. |
I Am On The Radio
05:06
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I am on the radio
with my whole body and my whole soul,
like an old time antannae up on the roof
of an refurbished crown on a crumbling house that they rebuilt when it fell down.
I am an old poem,
I am an old song,
and I am a whole lot of trouble.
People who live in the right now
think I am.
I wish when they'd tell me to calm down, I could say I can't.
I am whole.
I'm in a whole lot of trouble, because of all of these visions that are letting me down
on what is real
and what is really real.
It's a whole lot of trouble
for me to be someone who is whole.
I am on the radio
with my whole body and my whole soul,
like an old time antannae up on the roof
of an refurbished crown on a crumbling house that they rebuilt when it fell down.
I am an old poem,
I am an old song,
and I am a whole lot of trouble.
People who live in the right now
think I am.
I wish when they'd tell me to calm down, I could say I can't.
Instead I just have to admit what kind of fragile I am.
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16. |
A Beige House
04:53
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R.U.U.N.E. Portland, Oregon
multi genre performer who is just trying their best <3
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