I've Got Ten Friends And A Crowbar That Says You Won't Do Jack

It's falling apart.

Sun, 31 Jul 2005 14:39:26 GMT

MY ENTIRE LIFE IS FALLING APART. (well, not entirely) I'M DONE. (well, not completely)

I just feel fucked.

Doesn't Matter Much.

Tue, 24 May 2005 03:09:08 GMT

The smell of summer fills the linen closet where your cover's blown
I'm a secretive commotity, the smallest that you've ever known
"I'm dreaming all my nightmares, and nightmaring all my dreams..."
People and their lovers aren't always what they seem.
I've hung myself from buildings just to see how it would feel
If the thought of cutting yourself up felt anything but close to real
A magnet caught the stride of the nail that you've plunged down
Into the wood above my heart while I'm standing on the ground
I'm coating all your senses with appeals of hope and lust
Caving down into your throat, while you throw back up the dust
Settled back into your lungs since you see no cause in breathing
As you tear out your esophagus, you've no less cause for screaming
Hollow out your crooked soul, take a number and a seat
Keep a collar on stability it's bound to find a way to be beat
Hey, there, Pinocchio, it seems as if you're telling us some lies
There's a stem that reaches out from where your mouth interjects with your eyes
Maybe I'm just restless, and then again, I might be loathed
Didn't mean to make this awkward, it's just I love to tell the truth
Hidden deep within your eyes, there's a river that unfolds
Sometimes everything you feel needs not be immediately told.
Roped and gradually released between the now and the tomorrow
Enterprising and succeeding, with more lines than one can borrow
Along the libraries of fate and the towns were things reside
Dressed in clothes of high importance where their existence doesn't lie.
Blackened coffee shoves a high note through the courtship of your pens
Even though the keyboard feels your touch, it's just a whore on both it's ends.
Leaving out the space between sincerity and gaunt
Old and tattered like the stars that haven't given you a thought.
Where did everybody go and why am I still kicking fucking cans?
Lofty, high above the clouds, there's horizons to be stripped
Over the bridge that cries for freedom as it's supports become clipped
Vast as oceans and the sky while we admire only that
Eager to feel so enthralled to write a sonnet with a bat
I've seen buildings falling down and the prettiest of faces
Systematically corrode, to be of utmost poetic nature
Not to prove or be aloof, just to find a place to rest
To come closer to a heaven where you don't have to be blessed
Red and white wine is on them, and the cocktails never cease
Even after you've exploded there's still no one there but priests
Always ready for commands, keeping you upholestered and renewed
Laughing out at stupid jokes and crushing what they thought was true.
If you've read this message, I think I'm already dead.
I took pride in this life, but not in the hole in my head.

A Boy And His Dog

Mon, 16 May 2005 03:40:02 GMT

Just believing everything will be alright.
Finally, the search has become misleading.
I've only a pawprint and a few little hairs to show.
So, I'm drowning in the feelings that I had that surfaced.
Maybe you can't see it, now. But I miss you so much more.
I'm just your little enforcer. Keeping your room guarded.
No one will get in. That's a solemn promise.
If it takes me a thousand years, I'll see you again.
I can't let this old brain forget about my closest friend.
Making my rounds around this darkened town.
Currently, you're nowhere to be found.
The streetlights blink in black and white.
Not quite finding anything, just your friends, but they're all sleeping.
Where did you go? Why did you leave me behind?
Following the faintest signs of heartbeats.
If there's one thing that a tail is good for.
It's showing you when I know I'm wrong.
This is how I tell you that I'm sorry for what I've done
That old shoebox, I never knew it meant that much.
For every little thing that ever made you want to scream, I will apologize.
I wish that you'd come home. I wish you would.
So, now, It's day thirteen. I haven't seen you in almost two weeks.
Is it worth it to blame myself? Is it something that I don't know about?
There's an awful lot going on around here that you're missing out on.
But maybe that's for the better. I know you hated commotion.
I tried to keep your door closed, but they shuffled me out into the rainfall.
No matter how I tried to tell them that I wanted in, no one is ever listening.
Please don't be angry, for this promise I tried so hard to keep.
Tell me now, have you ever wanted out?
It seems as if there's something you never told me about.
The rain doesn't seem to bother me, I'll just shake it off.
I'm writing this in dirt. Hoping that you'll see it, someday.
This is the part where I decide that everything will have to find itself.
I never saw it coming. I never saw it coming.
Still no sign of you. Lay me down to rest.

It's Been A Long, Long Time

Sun, 15 May 2005 20:03:48 GMT

Remind me to start that anorexic trend
A heart so gaunt and full of tumult
Caressed with holes and leaks and fruitless dreams
Of being the center of your soul.
Remind me to go without shoes again
So the soles of my feet will be cut up
The air's bittersweet, and the glass finds a scene
To play doctor with my nerves and vital signs.
Dear God, he's flatlining again. Give us oxygen.
A prayer to lift up, if you're willing to trust
That the exit will be as simple as pulling a plug.
Oh, nurse, I think his breathing has failed.
Give him time, it's only fair.
You're conscious, alert, and obeying the smirks
Of the people who've gathered to watch this young boy be unearthed.
Lying on paper, it's easier when you're not faced with the trauma.
A quiet ensemble, a low to tune samba
A tumbler or two full of your favorite "forget it all" juice.
Well, what will that do? Yet, to prove
That you're losing your mind will do no apparent justice.
Remind me to start up a chorus again
If I can find it beside this mess of a body I have
Come let this quiet ensue, and I'll just let me let you
Have at the front of my ribs with a hammer or two
But just don't be so surprised when there's no organ inside
That I've kept locked away for the start to day
I've made a perfect revolution around your house
And strung your bedroom door with dynomite
Lit the fuse for exactly when you'd open your door.
And left a card between the bottom of your bed and the floor.
Dear God, he's flatlining again. Give us oxygen.
A prayer to lift up, if you're willing to trust
That the exit will be as simple as pulling a plug.
Oh, nurse, I think his breathing has failed.
Give him time, it's only fair.
I've left room between the mouth of the bottle and my lips
To judge the rhythm from the left of your hips
Stormed out before the second act has stopped
I'm not one for the theatre or the door that it locked
This appeal lingers over your front porch.
To reconstruct the promises I lost.

Interestingly Enough, I'm Writing About Another Girl, Today.

Wed, 04 May 2005 02:23:35 GMT

the sample surgery. the patient grips at your hand.
no words, just a pair of blue flourescent eyes,
whispering, "please don't let me be the first to go."
can you be my miracle? can you be my miracle?
i'm waiting on the sun to come out.
to beckon to the clouds to patch up the holes in the atmosphere.
to shed some light on this situation we have.
i'll make the first incision, make sure to be as gentle as i can be
knowing that if you wake up.
there'll be no end to the discretion that you'll take away.
i miss the feel of your lips against mine.
i guess i'm at fault, for wishing that time could stand still.
and what will you say when i'm caught in this daydream?
my hands are shaking and i hope that i don't slip up, now.
i got so far and i just don't want to turn around.
breathe now, go to sleep. and try to dream.
before you know it you'll be cured of this disease.
and that disease is me. i'll cut you out of my heart.
and put back into your own. if that's possible.
so while you're under that blanket,
don't mistake the lights for anything that they could be.
because you're not in heaven, well, not yet, at least.
i can't be ruthless, i can't be wrong.
i'll be your underground garage, where you can hide away.
to escape the medicine and the therapy prescribed each day.
i know you're trying to rebuild yourself.
everything seems so simple when your resting like a shelf.
except for following your heart, as it collides with your mind.
and that's something that can only be healed by time.
i'll patch you up and throw away the cloth.
that i had so accurately used to dampen all the remaining blood.
i'll send you flowers and a book to read while you're in bed
i'll come over when are you sleeping, and i'll kiss your head.
the beside cemented my feet right near your sheets.
the air is cold to me but you're tucked in three miles deep.
and i can't leave you now. i need to hear you dreaming.
and i can't leave you now. whether i'm a ghost or not.
and i'm invincible when i'm around you.

Your Selfishness Is Wearing Thin

Sun, 01 May 2005 04:10:59 GMT

christ, i know i'm scared. maybe this is a sign.
the days to come will unravel me.
tape me up, and throw me down into the ocean.
so i can wash upon the shores of the bottoms of your feet.
and i'll walk around until my knees give out.
and i'll write you lullabies on the backs of my elbows
i'll keep out of reach and just out of sight.
those subtle kisses on your forehead
reach down into the pit of my heart
and pull everything that i sewed back together out.
you are my black cloud tapered like a butterfly's wings
beautiful and captured in the sunspots we've seen
crawling out towards an inequity of charm
robust in character and at our wit's alarm.
claiming that the air's to blame
for keeping my lungs dry and all my words profane
can you hear me now? i hope you can.
can you hear me? i'm a weathervane.
blowing in the direction that i came
calling your name ever so softly, almost inaudible
but i bet your ears are sharp enough to know
just like the wit that you had so eloquently fondled
fold me up just like a paper crane
and tear me from the inside and work me like a dog
i wish i could care, but everything's numb inside
you'll be my novacine, be my insectide
ingest at will, take all of these pills
if i don't wake up, tell my friends that i am sorry
if you remember to. it's not that hard to do.
it seems like lately you've forgotten all but my name
and sometimes i wonder, if you've forgotten about that, too.
if my voice could echo through the waves out there
i'd make sure that every word i say leaves me bare
without the wonder of excitement or the snap of cold air
i just wish i knew that everything on the horizon
will stop exploding like a war that i have started by myself.
fault is only cracking like the genocide of friends
like the feeling that has started and has ceased to fucking end.
i care for you so much that i think i've used myself up.
that feeling that you get when you know you've been in love
well, here is where reality collides with what you know.
the science of falling out of place.
the words you read just to feel important.
the more i hear your name, the more i get so sick of being this way.
and this is what i've learned, as bold as it can be:
NOTHING THAT I EVER WRITE WILL EVER BRING YOU BACK TO ME.

Last Calls Are Weak Willed

Sat, 30 Apr 2005 05:39:41 GMT

a marked man with a vicious appearance
crawls out of the floorboards and into my mirror
so every time i try to look at my reflection
all i see is a monster staring back at me
i cried into my hands and tried to make this all equate
but i've found myself appalled at the people and the things that i hate
and don't believe for a moment that i'm dying here
i might just be alive, but by the barest thread that you can find
i keep to myself, but my mind keeps asking questions
and it makes my fingers jolt when i am pulling back agression
but it's all because i'm sick with being caught upon the ground
where a heart can't be a heart because there's no one else around to fill it up.
this precious air is filtered into my lungs
it's caught upon the tapers and the staples where my heart was fixed up
it stings my insides and it burns until i tear myself wide open
right in front of you so you can tell me where i went wrong
certainly not an idealist of sorts,
but if the world is tumbling into a rut, then sign me up as a corpse.
find me a box and a comfortable chair
so i can watch my body crumble as you keep him by your side to compare
the way i kissed you to the way that he does
and i'm sorry if i'm ruthless, but you know this really hurts
i'm comprising a plan to tie a rope to my neck
only hoping that you'll come along and kick the chair out that's holding me there
and if it's a wish that's granted, coming out of turn,
well, i hope this whole damn town knows that my conscience falls apart in your arms.
for the sake of keeping everything aligned
i'll just scramble around towns and mark the places that i know i've never been
maybe as time fades, there will be an escape
trusting in the way the world just seems to wash me away
so, for this one, i'll just close my eyes and dream that we're alone
in a room that's eight by six with a window and a door
just a couch and a tv and one of our favorite movies
and i'll hold you closer now than i have ever held another soul before
just as the plot slows down, i'll lean in just to whisper
that i've lost all faith in everything, but you're the only thing that keeps me here.
just as to stretch your legs to walk away, i'll kind of say,
"i will always love you, more today than yesterday,"
and if it sounds just like another song you may have heard before
your ears are wrought with dirty sounds and echoes from the floor
where i'll keep myself so you can step all over my poor heart,
because everybody knows that i do this to myself.
tonight will come and go, and even though this song will show
a few people who understand the way you feel when things go wrong
you'll come across the things that made you feel the way you did.
and i'll simply just apologize and leave this town the way that it is.

All My Friends Are Going Death

Mon, 25 Apr 2005 01:01:52 GMT

Here's looking at you, kid. Here's taking the initiative.
Here's the burning engine. Here's the cold hard vengeance.
There's a knife in your side and the tracks on your eyes.
It seems you've crossed your path, before.
Readied and read, unclouded opened book demeanor.
Where the six meets the zero at the edge of the bridge.
Ready, set, jump. Ready, set, test your luck.
This is terror coming and ready to fuck.
To take you by your knees and rip into you like machines.
We're all oiled and powered on.
We're all madmen in the shape of a shall.
Take cover under the headstock. The barrel, the smoke, and the kickback.
The grieving I'm taking, I'm falling asleep at the helm.
Save me, deprave me, before I find myself dead.
Flavored myself, cooked and charred. Sugar and stones.
Smoked the back of my head until I bled no more.
I couldn't escape it, so I decided to give up.
I'm a master at that, you know, I'm just so abrupt.
I'm alone and on fire, blank and upheld
Like a law written, quilled, and engraved to the back of your skin.
Murders and alibis, I won't bare to stand on trial.
It's all the shit I can't live with, the shotgun gives me a kiss goodnight.
I love the taste of your tongue in my mouth.
I swear to god, this time tomorrow, I'll rip your fucking heart out.
Play dead. Lay down next to me. Hear me breathe.
Tell me it's a joke and put my head back together.

Another Decade And They're Vanishing

Sun, 24 Apr 2005 04:17:01 GMT

I decided to take a few minutes to try to do you justice,
But realized I'd need years to let you know what you meant to us.
This all comes with eighteen years of never knowing how to do it right,
So you did what you did, and you can't take that back.
I suppose you're just staring down, folded arms,
And you wonder where our resolve went. How did this even happen?
I'll take off running with an arm full of regrets,
And you can chase me through the wind and whisper the breeze at the bottom of my shirt.
I'm so sorry it has to be this way.
As we search the streets for someone to blame, or threads to hold onto,
Just something to claim and call ours, reminders of you.
Blessed our heads with courtesy and emotion,
And we all stand dumbfounded and wait for the signal to start walking away,
But you've got to learn how to crawl before you walk,
And you've got to master that walk before you can run away from it all.
I started to believe that there's angels, and maybe you're one of them,

But I never saw you fly while you were here.
Maybe your wings were just paralyzed with fear.
I guess you must've known that miracles don't come easy
If people only took what you said and exercised believing.

Don't take this as naive, but I needed the signs.
Looking back, I can't apologize enough for doubting it.
So, you left without packing a suitcase, and took your heart,
But I'll never know how you kept that thing in your chest.
I've got the fondest memories and teardrops to speak of
When I've long forgotten about the buildings and the daylight,
But you're always with us.
To say that you're missed is an understatement, and where are you, tonight?
In the moonlight? In the horizons finite line?
I can't tell you how many times I've seen everyone paste
A heart next to your name and call it justice.
Maybe someday people will take you for the person you are.
Until then, we'll stick to being compassionate,
Without lashing out and being collected as it took months to piece ourselves back together.
Sometimes, I wonder if this is all a few words worth talking about.
This is love, the kind you tell your children about.

Saw A Terrible Crash, And I Couldn't Help But Laugh

Thu, 21 Apr 2005 10:48:56 GMT

i found it difficult to write with all the lights out.
since you stopped my heart from beating, I guess I had no choice.
solace in alcohol, the sorrows drown with great withdrawl
from contact or the feeling of the morning in your eyes.
two more sips, I'll be just fine, walk me to the door, screaming to the doorknob,
"turn! i need to be inside! just let me sleep this off, tonight",
i wonder if you thought of me under the stars that night,
or my proposal for a valentine, you're all I need, alright?
ao, it's true that whenever you close your eyes,
if you see a face then you must be in love,
well, whoever told me lied, because I'm so far from you, tonight
and we're growing older, and we're far apart,
so I'm leaving town, without a solemn frown.
no smiles or indication that i'm still alive and well
watch out for all of these smoke signals and paper missiles,
i just can't seem to breathe, tonight.
keep the accidents at minimums,
the station docked and ready to explode,
we're losing fuel, well, i'm losing you, and that's me playing the fool,
or at least playing guitar, so can you hear it in your heart?
you're a million miles away, but you can hear it in your heart.
i stopped believing that there's anyone above me,
and you just can't grow wings, or fly away.
i let your intentions get the best of me, and now
i'm courtesy embalmed with a thousand pounds of unbalanced lead.
i'm crying silver tears with metal cheeks, tonight.
i just wish you can lift them from my face and buy yourself a brand new life.
there's no telling where this will lead me, but the road is cracked and the rocks are chipped.
the turns, they wind and lead into trees that cut through the wind like chirping birds.
tonight, I'll whistle at the moon, and maybe it'll give me something new.
tonight, i'll let myself come home, alive.
tonight, I'll give myself the last opportunity to catch my breath
and calm the waves of my stomach, as i stand and chatter teeth like morse code.
now, it's all I've got. i'm holding onto myself, because i'm that all I've got.
i guess I wished myself out of luck, i guess I'm worrying too much,
i just want you to come back home, just to see that empty house,
and the ticket I left out, just so you would know for sure
that when that plane goes down, I will be right there to feel the sting of passing time,
to feel your heart as it does mine, can you still hear that guitar?
i think it just ran out of notes.

Time Takes Time

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 02:51:17 GMT

Drawn in like the ocean's waves
Before we choose to attack the concaved, christ enhanced midnight.
Shaking hands and making plans to rescue hope
From the well that it fell down two nights ago.
Placed in film, penciled in. Made our mark.
It's time to leave. So, no one has seen what we left behind.
Is this the end? Can we ever really tell?
Troubled times, mark those years, crossed black lines
Into an anomoly of cold sweat and tears.
Can I get a drumroll? Or some sort of fanfare?
So, they know I'm walking right off the edge.
Troubled times, bitter wine. Steal the night.
From the moon and all the stars that glisten down at you.
Apologize to everything that you have ever loved.
Coffee, sugar, the whole bit.
Not getting used to it.
Not just yet.
I'm trying to forget.
I loved you all the same.
Trust that I would never hurt you,
I cut into the ground below your feet, just to catch you when you dream.
Not meaning to be trite, but I miss your eyes, tonight.
Does this sound too surreal? Are love songs all this real?
Am I not one to steal the air outside you breathe?
The dancing on your coffin. The ether I cracked open,
To breathe and fall asleep. I want to see your dreams.
So, I can just find out, who you're dreaming about.
Or maybe make you fall in love with me through this
Necktie love affair, maritime, cracked and open lips.
Rummaged through your memory banks. Kept you alive for too long.
This is where I throw down my sword.
I'm bored, and I'm home. You're alone.
A fight with two victors is not the battle we expected.
This right to die and live, well, it's perplexing.
Troubled times, kissing thighs. It's not love.
Not just lust, somewhere in between, it that's possible.
Be my queen, the sky will bleed from the wound we gave to it.
Giving up, it's not my style. This whole format. It takes a while.
Learning fast, days and nights. Amongst troubled times.
Coffee, sugar, the whole bit.
Not getting used to it.
Not just yet.
I'm trying to forget.
I loved you all the same.

Truth Speaks In Short Segments

Sat, 09 Apr 2005 20:08:43 GMT

eager to see the gift you recieved,
you tore through my chest like a new disease.
'but, it's only a heart that's been bandaged back up,
and why should i care, should i give a fuck?'
i hate every word, every last little phrase
but they come from your lips, so i offer them praise.
and i'm troubled enough, when i'm stuck, opened up
and aside from the air, it's sharp and it's tough.
these gestures are small, but it's lengthly to try
to complete my last christmas with a tear in each eye.
just like real romance, i rip through your clothes
i bludgeon your angst, and tickle your nose.
i wake up from dreams, drenched in cold sweat.
and wonder who you're thinking about and why it's not me.
and i think there's something wrong with the soles of my shoes
they've been falling apart ever since I've been without you.
it's fair in itself, and there's no true injustice.
except when you're destitute and apart from your conscience.
the testament that time heals wounds is false.
being removed from the absence doesn't solve problems.
i feel as if we've only momentarily drowned ourselves.
everything eventually floats to the surface,
more like a relic of a summer ago.
it seems like i'm writing just to die young.
so, when the promise is finally a moment that's dawned.
i'll have words that people can look back upon.
greeting a set of gates with a distinct apprehension.
sad, but faking. hurt, but shaking it off too well.
there's few ways to escape the great beyond.
coming back to the surface after you know you've drowned.
here's the promise i promised i'd keep.
leaving you frantic, a complacent sheep.
knowing a murder isn't just by the hand.
it's by the things that you've said and you've done in the past.
trust is just a one way street,
that i'm too frequently using incorrectly,
a bomb in a bonnet, a gun with a sonnet.
a chill down my spine, and a craze you create
when everyone loves you, but hates the feeling.

...Be The Best Day You Can Remember

Mon, 04 Apr 2005 00:03:16 GMT

Throw me that curve in your tongue.
I wait on every word like a hawk.
Mr. Resemblance, you've come and left me.
Nothing but the thumb up and cars passing.
If anyone can hear what I'm saying, just give me a wave.
Just so I know I'm not so foreign in my own town.
Great, so I'm bleeding and I'm stuck on my front porch.
Tied down with twine and kept lit by a porcelain torch
Telling me, "I'm not really lit, I'm just shining with a smile."
Keep me from my solace, let me stay drunk for a while.
Clearly, I have found out why tonight there is so sky
Only painted clouds and streaks that just fly by.
I'm not dreaming, but I'm not dead. I've feet made of lead.
This whole ordeal, I dread.
I can't walk, I can't talk, but I'm good to make you mine.
I can't walk, I can't talk, but there's no need for wasting time.
Follow me with flowers and a sheet with which to grade
Every single step I lose and every move I've made.
This road is so overrated. I'm less traveled.
I greet this hex on my mind with a piercing stare.
I've found no truth that spring can tell me.
Here it is, again. Here I go, old friend.
Training my mouth to shut itself conveniently.
Nailing my lips shut and keeping my hands behind my back.
Blending in with the treetops, hoping that it's not the shock
But the steam which you've created from the shower I've invaded.
Is this strange? I don't feel like I'm in my own body.
Is this strange? I don't feel like I'm in my own body.
So, now, I'm watching the second hand overlap the minute hand
Talking about friends that I'd left and abandoned
Everything I did, I thought I did just to please you
Well, here I am, nine months removed, and what am I aiming to do?
My life's become an airplane without the landing gear
Whisper in to my ear, I know I'm nothing, dear.
Keep telling yourself that, I hope you know it's fine.
One day, I'll make you mine, whether dead or alive.
I feel just like a kid, who's blocking out life and love
And mockingbirds, it's such a shame, that I wished all of you were doves.
But who's to blame for this, is it his sorrow?
Or his keen ability to shun today instead of tomorrow?
Well, I'm putting all my bets, and the principle of regret.
I'll be sorry, someday, but now I could care less.

It Just Might...

Sun, 03 Apr 2005 21:42:29 GMT

A permanent transience quiets the street
Under the fog of brevity, we say hello.
Not quite ready for goodbyes, for that would be absolute.
Yet, I feel so obsolete. I'm cold and damp and tired.
Weightless and inquisitive, for the sake of the all clear.
Self stationed and ankles bound to the tracks.
It's the brief second when the air hits you,
Life doesn't have to be a cycle out and through.
Tonight, happiness is packaged with a passenger seat.
Heresy taught between the velvet of your bodies.
It's as blissful as your first kiss.
Except I hope, tomorrow, you don't remember his.
My sheets are as cold as the january waves.
As they crash an icy wind upon my skin.
Loved and worn, I've grown like a plant towards the sun.
You can't manufacture love, but I wished you'd try.
It's just me against everyone else, but will you be on my side?
I don't even trust my own conscience.
I'm so jagged that I could cut myself a new smile from the inside.
I just don't mind. I just don't see the purpose.
Of how to smooth this granular floor into a bed fit for a king.
I could fall asleep arms folded, just above my own body.
My best critic from the roof of the house. I'm my own enemies.
Lest we forget the menace of drowning in puddles.
I'm all too held up by you to give myself the chance.
Poised for the click as my feet start to dance.
I'm dangling and open like a door.
Close me, before I start to sway from my kinetic disposition.
No circus of great length could bring me back to your door.
No movie seat could keep me from missing your kiss.
I'm too honest and I'm depraved. I've no qualities but your own.
I am unbroken. Aside from the fractured footsteps.
Riven, yet risen from the bedside of a friend.
Given control of my own fate, as a nomadic stranger of the night.
Riding through weakened states and fields of patience.
Writing letters in poor taste and loose ink.
The lonely pedal rests upon my quivering face.
"Is it, yet, time to go home?" I will never know.
You are what kept me here. Now, I feel as if I'm betrayed.
Not by love, but just because I knew,
That you lied when you said, "I'd never leave you."

Better To Forget Than To Fall Asleep

Fri, 01 Apr 2005 03:32:13 GMT

possibly, this reckoning has shelved me.
alibi topped to the tipped hat.
from the sewer cover, the three kings.
dressed in crooked cloth and the such.
the latter in hiatus with god at their collar bones.
we are not feigned.
courted to the bottoms of their teeth.
your tongue slips backwards.
the horizontal midsummer, sweat the bullets out.
the chariot awaits the highness on his way out.
heart in a box. a crown is the only fashion.
and still the camera lens pierced my lungs.
awaited it's true blue to light me aflame.
couldn't put the feelings into a solioquy.
so, i dripped the ruby from my palm onto the page.
everybody knows. the blame has been shown.
you're courteous, but i'm not ashamed to tell it.
doctor! doctor! we're losing her!
over? god damnit, don't tell me it's over!
to the briggs of the ship, i walked.
if she's gone, we're gone, and we're romantic.
shame on me, you rascals? i've asked no questions, yet.
but, i swore that camera was dead. he was dead.
water ran through the hole in your mouth.
out through the skin and up through the clouds.
yellow is your color. red is your design.
this dirty mechanism; your true demise.
tell me, now, why i'm still alive?
floated some flowers on top of that river.
the drizzle of heartache and segregation.
washed you away with a deep breath that night.

With Love.

Thu, 31 Mar 2005 04:06:40 GMT

teach me of this contention. how i'm supposed to act.
when it's okay to cry, and when it's not right to laugh.
i need to know how the stars twinkle and how the wind blows.
i need to know how your heart beats and where your breath goes.
free as the bullet as it sparks from the chaimber
and runs into these cliches that blast through each word
exposing a bit of pain and a lifetime of nudity.
stay steady and keep yourself grounded.
come light from daytime, you'll find your eyes crack and crumble.
sight and the absence of myself, but you don't need to know where you've been.
i'm the yesterday that happens constantly.
i know no right, i know no wrong, i've come and gone. i've gotten scars.
destined for open air, tumultuous and prude.
tried and true. swallowed and crude.
a jester's hat and a zenith of handshakes.
i feel like i've been part of this circus of unforgiveness
for too long to count on fingers and toes.
elegant and still so mortifying and gruesome.
have i wasted words on feeling anything?
you should just go, resonate your apathy.
give up and throw yourself on top of those train tracks
and feel the sharp sting of metal and massacre
the crimson of tapestry, the fingerprints are faded
pleading with a gun in your mouth.
asking yourself if this is lust or if it's unjust
who can we blame for the death of our friends?
well, it's only ourselves and the ways we pretend
to love and forgive and forget and regret
it's not love, it's just similar, again and again.
you're so light on your feet, and your kiss so discreet
and your hair and your eyes and your smell and your smile.
here i go, here i go, again.
fuck the rhymes, fuck the sky, fuck the love from which we abide.
i'm sick of the suit that we've grown to comprehend.
when does it change? when we all go deaf? when the sun burns out?
if this is love, then why can't i see that i'm at home, and i'm bleeding.
these nights decay and form anew into the flowers i bought for you.
kill with a quick wit. cutting room floor.
the green room. the dark stare. the love we bear.
useless and unrequited love harming the atmosphere of the room.
three turn to two, turn to one, turn to none.
just alone. dried out and questionably numb.
a diamond knife and an old towel. just me and the music.
can you see where this goes? is the story too old?
cut! cut the scene! the stage is unclean. the prompter's nowhere to be seen.
hold the play button down, i'll record something new for you.
watch the lights fade into my world, baby.
i think you feel alone, now. don't mind my breath on your shoulder.
are you scared? is this fear? do you even know? i'd bet you don't.
i'll smash my ribs until they're dust, with strength enough to reach inside.
take out the bomb inside my chest and put in a box aside.
with my last breath, i'll set it for the next time that you fall in love.
so, one of us is out of luck, and the other's out of blood.

With love, I've no recollection of anything I've ever done.
With love, I've no recollection of ever having actually begun.

Think About Today. Fucking Think.

Sun, 27 Mar 2005 06:13:06 GMT

I stared down the hallway and opened myself like a jacket.
Bearing soul and insides, no matter the wear or the wither.
I'm a ladder that goes straight to heaven.
Bloodied and crushed under the weight of numbers and dates.
Waiting for the pillars to crumble and bring you back down.
Breathe calm and grasp against the freezing cold.
Back at the house, the lights are all left on.
Hoping that it'll guide your soul back to me.
Keeping the rest of our presumptions drowned.
I'm nothing but an open mouth. I'm nothing but a bushel of words.
Setting fire to those remains of freedom and childishness.
Troubled waters bringing waves to my front door.
Those less than silent secrets lingering like clouds.
Everything eventually coincides, didn't you know?
Has everyone forgotten? Has everyone been watching?
Or have the promises we made to change been strewn across the closet?
It makes me sick to know that every single person who has said
That'd they'd live by his example, and just because he's dead?
Well, no one's changed, they're just the same.
It's all a lie. It's such a shame.
We said we'd try to love each other more
But all we still do is complain.
I'm such a mess, and I didn't get a chance to watch you grow.
Who am I to say that I miss you?
The rest of the world is just as troubled by your absence.
Loss of structure and ground rules disintegrate.
Let's make this intimate, I'll visit when I can.
I bought you some flowers but declined to leave a note.
And I hope you're looking down and you see exactly who they're from.
I feel sick and it's freezing cold.
Heart of gold, and a despot bold and through with running.
I'm only screaming at a nameplate. A smile without a face.
Just an empty grave with a muted set of lungs.
The tears flow like the faucet, oh, let's dip your wings in.
Clean them of all of our impurities.
I hope you can fly back to heaven and put in a good word for me.
Let him know that I'm sorry that we're letting you down.
We swore we'd change, but haven't done a thing.
We gave up on the winter, and hoped that spring would bring
A second chance to make the grievances and pardons that we let
Take a chance to breathe and grow just like the fires we all set.
Change isn't a thought, it's the actions and the words.
It's common place to be afraid, but don't tell us that it's over.
We're all people. Just a rhythm on a planet. To this Earth we're bound.
Buried and dug up, claimed with set comforts. Waiting to be found.
The panic of the people, to know that we're not next.
I'm ready to sit back and watch the end. Get this feeling off my chest.
I wear this party hat and streamers, and I lit a candle or two
Wait to set this house ablaze, so you can see how much I love you.
Have I done this all so wrong? But is anyone really right?
Show me how to get to you, I'll end my life tonight.

The Right Time, The Right Moment. What Everyone Waits For.

Sat, 26 Mar 2005 05:28:00 GMT

Everything is redundant. There's even something redundant about the bible, and how it just reinforces the same principles and how it tries to explain everything that happens. People don't need an explanation for everything, people need to accept that things happen, and just move on. Yet, people just move parallel to each other. No matter what we make or who we meet or what riches we fall into, we're still just coasting towards non-existence. That's how it always was. That's the nature that God intended. There was no verse or no chapter that spoke of the concurrence of man and their inability to fathom the depth of their existence, although it is said that maybe mankind isn't meant to understand everything, and that's what faith is for, essentially. No one really knows how the world was made, but you can either believe that God made it or that some humongous blast smashed atoms and particles together, and somehow a star formed all that life is. Maybe we're all just thinking too hard.

But, if everything is redundant, then it all comes around again.

blind man on a canyon's edge
of a panoramic scene
maybe I'm a kite that's flying high
and random, dangling a string
or slumped over in a vacant room
head on a stranger's knee
I'm sure back home
they think I've lost my mind

I am sure that I don't trust love anymore. The only reason I don't trust it is because a human being can accept failure only so many times. Granted, I've been failed many times, but I am only eighteen years old, which doesn't say much for the rest of my life. However, I'm not one of those people who believes that high school means nothing and it's just a phase in your life when people are allowed to date and fall in love based on status and perks. No. That's not the way it should be, but that's what love is. So, we can't escape that. I don't think once you leave the capsule that is "high school", it will get much different. I think we are all slaves to the perfect lives and the perfect people, but no one is perfect. So, everyone is looking for Mr. Right, because they saw it on some low level sitcom, and perserverance actually paid off. Perserverance isn't chasing the wind, it's actually chasing something real. Although love isn't something tangible, it's a premise that you can follow and smell and hear and understand. Reality isn't a television show with a coined laughter. Reality isn't what everyone makes it seem. Reality is what this is. It's not searching for years and then stumbling upon glory as if it were a dollar bill in the middle of the sidewark. You work towards it. You try, you fail, you get back up, you wipe the blood off of your knees, and you put your feet back on the pedals. That's what the glory of finding love is. It's not in the surprises that come along with a by-chance meeting. It's the day when you realize the average person is worth the same amount of love.

But, no one takes any of this seriously. No one takes any of the poetry I write seriously, because no one wants to dive into it and let it relate. It's all because people are too concerned with the surface. Ofcourse, when you read something, you have to open your mind, but there's so much that you can see in one line or any poem anywhere that you can't find staring at a beautiful girl, or believing in a certain premise. It's all about intrinsic meaning, and no one seems to grasp the fact that everything is written for it's beauty, and not just to be pretentious.

Everything I've ever written in this journal, and anywhere for that matter, has a meaning to me, and if you just trust your heart and your mind - and their ability to coherently match at some point, then you can understand and live some of my life, too. I've written things that are so blatantly about one subject, that they can honestly be misinterpreted for many different things. I do that, myself. However, trusting and believing in oneself is such a hard thing to stumble across these days, because everyone has a false notion of what the perfect person is, and what the correct plight is, and how you should think and act, and you can't find yourself in a prada bag or in an endless cup of starbucks coffee, because that doesn't make a person. Everything we cover ourselves in, and everything we indulge ourselves in doesn't mean anything, because it's all on the surface. Your lipstick, your hair products, your underwear, your music, your ideals. It's all surface. We don't really have the concept of even knowing what "underneath" is, because everything in the world is built for it's surface problem solving abilities, and how it can make you a better person. It doesn't. Nothing except being yourself makes you a better person, and if it takes soul searching, and all of that completely useless pondering time that really does nothing, then it should be done.

I just want to love, laugh, cry, and be...I just want to exist amongst everyone not just as a peer or someone liked or disliked, but I want to have a sense of understanding for the beauty of everything. Just because you can stare at the water or the clouds or a sunset and write a song about it doesn't mean you've understood what really is exploding right in front of your eyes, but you're too caught up by your own ambitions and inhibitions to realize. I'm eighteen, and I'm stupid. I'm young, I'm careless, I'm reckless, I'm immature, I'm habitual, I'm in love, and I'm completely out of touch with what life can and may be. I hate myself for what I am and what I think I'm going to become. Has this all gotten too uncomfortable? Well, that's life. I am just a boy with fingers, a keyboard, a constant tear in his eyes, and the perfect soundtrack for everything, and I hate every second of it. But, that's the process of understanding what beauty is. And although I'm incessant, lazy, and bad looking, I have an amount of beauty that no one will ever possess, and this isn't meant to be uplifting or charming or one of those "right side of the bed" ordeals. It's the truth. Everyone who reads this will hopefully come to realize that just because they aren't society's beautiful or the harvard model of intelligent doesn't mean that they aren't just as beautiful. I just wish people would base love on this concept rather than the worldly and unimportant things, because I think people would come to terms with happiness, and how much you can change a person's life, just by a simple kiss or a heartbeat in tune.

Everything ends, and everything begins. Everything is beautiful, and everything is just what it is. Everything is still redundant in the world, yet so much different that it's painstakingly aware that we, as people, are the most amazing creatures. We control so much more than ourselves. We are a part of this world, and we should learn to embrace that. Don't let it pass you by.

Bite the hand that feeds.

Fri, 25 Mar 2005 01:33:10 GMT

This is just a lesson I'm trying to teach myself.
I don't mean much to anyone.
Oh, how stagnant this world has become.
You can draw the knives, and keep the secrets embalmed.
Shoot at me with an open target. Trust.
A precursor to the prize, the fight of your lifetime.
And when the premise of the exclamation point is gone,
You're kissing him instead of me. I ask myself if it's right,
To feel or to be real. We're all just machines.
Taught to grieve and pretend,
the pretend sadness, the guilt of pleasure.
Baby, I'm already overboard. I'm tight at the knees.
I've set the curve, and feathered the classroom.
Just another story for a local newspaper.
I'm just another believer in a city of lies.
If you had asked for a call to arms,
I've brought you my solace in an unmarked box.
We're all transferrable and refundable.
I'm just going to disappear by dawn. That's why my head is turned on.
For every button we misuse, I'm writing to change the world.
I think you're better off drunk, now.
While the rest of us watch your steps fall short.
Justice has no skirt, and you've two broken hands.
The marriage of gun and bullet. Elimination rounds.
Finding the strongest of the pack. Withered and tarred.
This is you on your knees. No begs. No bets.
One hundred reasons to leave these stars behind.
None more than the heat we all carry between us.
I'm just a fire waiting to be put out.
Be my waterfall, baby, be my downfall.

Forbear, and eat no more.

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 06:11:30 GMT

For the last few nights, my power's been out.
So, I've been placing my faith in a candle or two.
And the wind will rush by and white me out. And it's just fine.
It's now that I'll find the time to leave the second hand behind.
The city is coming down, I'm toppling right along the sound
Of broken buildings, bloody knuckles, systematically, a catalyst
You're fueling this inferno that no water can put out.
So, you can tell me what your future plans are.
I'm not scientist, and you know this. But, I'm guessing that you're sick
Of falling in and out of love, well, a song's a song, you know this, but
I'm starting to feel sorry that you're giving it the chance.
I guess this is my way of telling you that I'm jealous,
Or just a little bit uncertain as to why you've got a motive, anyways.
You can call this just a joke, but my heart's become a hoax.
If I don't believe anything it's saying, then why should you?
So, you can tell me what your future plans are,
They run thinner than the blood that's driving through my veins,
It missed its exit, and it's spraying past my fingers,
I'm a fatal, rocky car crash, running rampant passed the sidewalks
Because we're walking on the ashes of our past, little shards of broken glass.
From a windshield I'd called hope, well, where's your character, now?
I hope you find her, well, I hope you give this girl
A chance to realize just exactly what you're looking for, tonight.
And if she does succumb, well, just have take the night and run
Because we both know you're not seizing the day.
Call in an ambulance, the field squad, the paramedics.
This is just as far as my eyes can convey.
I know I'm a mess, but I must've been blessed with a sense of wrong and right.
Skip the anesthetic, because I'm finding a soulmate in the ground, now.
This is me choking on paradise. That paradigm of quarters and dimes.
The circle you're trying to fill, the places you're coloring in.
I'm crooning, and I'm selfish, but I'm crying tears of mud.
Maybe you'll be my medicine, but in the end, you're still my drug.
Who'd have known that I did it all for love?

So, just stop putting so much stock...

Tue, 22 Mar 2005 20:32:37 GMT

"let's get fucked up and die,
i'm speaking figuratively, ofcourse.
like the last time that i committed suicide, social suicide.
yeah, so i'm already dead on the inside
on the inside, but i can still pretend
with my memories and photographs i have learned to love the lie
i wanna know what it's like to be
awkward and innocent, not biligerent.
i wanna know how it feels to be useful
and pertinent, and have common sense, yeah
let me in, let me in to the club
'cause i wanna belong and i need to get strung
and if memories serves, i'm addicted to words
and they're useless in this department,
let's get fucked up and die
i'm riding hard on the last legs of every lie
and the bmx bike of my life is about to explode.
i'm about to explode.
i'm a mess, i'm a wreck,
i am perfect and i have learned to except
all my problems and shortcomings
cause i'm so visceral, yet deeply inept.
i want to thank you for being a part of
my forget-me-nots and marigolds
and all the things that don't get old
is it legal to do this section, i don't know.
it's the only way i have learned to express myself
through other people's descriptions of life
i'm afraid i'm alone and entirely useless in this department.
let's get fucked up and die,
for the last time with feeling, we'll try not to smile
as we cover our heads and drink heavily into night
that's no shocking surprise
i believe that i can overcome this and be everything in the end
but i choose to refuse for the time being
maybe i'll win, but for now i've decided to die.
miss consolement, you've been such a positive influence on my mental frame
if i could ever repay you, i would,
but i'm hard up for cash and my memory lacks initiative
god damn the liquor store's closed
we were so close to scoring, it hurts, it destroys until it kills
but i am tired and hungry and totally useless in this department."

- motion city soundtrack

But I'm Not Sleeping, And You're Not Here.

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 22:37:29 GMT

Children have clearance to make believe.
When you're only taught that love grows on trees
And light comes with breeze, and riches with ease
It's separation, baby, and I'm walking backwards.
Opposite sides of a kingdom of matrimony
The dashes, the features, attraction and misery
Playing the same god damn note with disharmony.
Years of practice being so quiet,
And no one expects the moon to be so loud.
And I'll go ahead and overuse the word beautiful one more time.
Just before stepping out the door to embrace the cold.
I'm not bitter, but I'm just sick of making love to the wind.
Here's the fence. It's a rite of passage.
Crumble with destiny and build back with prestige
The delicate sway of a leaf crossed battlefields
Giving a bullet more than just a deathwish,
God's on the picket line.
And he's drinking the water he turned into wine.
It's lovely to see, but, dissonant me,
I won't go without a fight or a drink.
A mortal amongst mortal,
A knife and a shovel and a body to bury.
Under this city, there's a new fury bubbling like veins.
Poison smells like perfume, here.
We are all just worms in a strange kind of earth
We are the air that's not fit to breathe.
It's not sidistic love, it's just out of place.
But that doesn't mean I can unglue this fake smile on my face.

Take the key, turn the wheel.

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 18:11:50 GMT

So, here, you're getting my first real non-lyrical/prose entry, just because I think the time for being poetic isn't at my fingertips at the moment. So, I might as well just go on a stupid rant that no one will read, or maybe someone will skim me, call me pretentious, tell me to grow up, and that will be that.

But, I don't give a fuck.

"The simple truth I've learned from this town"
Well, I don't know what I've learned from being in this place. I wasn't always aware that you could hate something and love something at the same time, but I guess that's how I feel about my entire town. There's so much beauty in it, but there's also so much ugliness. There's talent, but some of it is completely wasted. There's property and comedy and sadness and the absence of division and the prevalence of description. This town is embedded with the importance of knowing who you are and for every second that you doubt the path that fate will lead you down, you are automatically branded weak or at least weakwilled. So, here's me sending out my S.O.S. I've spoken to countless people over the past year...or even the past few months to be more specific about being lonely and why it seems so important to me to have someone. I'll go into it, and I know she won't read this, so I'll just drop her name.

So, that's where it all began. And now as I come across paths and whatnot, what becomes more of a beating upon my chest is that everyone who I'm near has something/someone. And people tell me to wait and wait and wait, but why wait when you can find love here? People argue that love doesn't exist in high school, and that love is only real in the "real world", and I think that's completely ridiculous, because if you're in high school, your world is high school and the revolving aspects of it, including your friends, your grades, your parties, your alcohol drinking, your sex, your tethers, your broken windows and bones, your soul, and your heart. All of it just ties into one big knot, sort of like that fucked up shoelace that you were too busy to tie, so you just put it on and pulled the knot tighter. Here I am. Right now. With this gigantic fucking knot. And nothing to even start untying it with. I am jealous of everyone around me who has someone to kiss and hold and be with. But, I guess that's the nature of the universe, you know, to covet what someone else has, because humans were given the ability to do it. So, have animals. Except, it's a bit more existential with humans, because a squirrel will bitch and complain about acorns and a hollowed out tree, but people are more complex, but it's all the same solutions. You want what you want for yourself, and once you have it, it's not about the people around you, but it's about you and your treasure. You and your love, you and your happiness. Not to say that happiness can't be found anywhere else, because obviously you can confide in your friends and family to get a smile on your face, but there's different levels of love and happiness and security, and certain things just can't be fulfilled by friends and family. People don't realize this, especially when they say, "don't be upset, because you have friends to go to". Saying that is almost like saying that if you lose your father, you can turn to your friends to be a father to you. While you may be able to get some sort of a difference and you may be able to clog that absence momentarily, there is no way that any person will ever be able to develop THAT relationship, because it's unique. The same goes with relationships, I think.

Yes, guys. I'm miserable. You all know it. Should I be? Absolutely not. Should I just learn to have friends and be happy with just that? Undoubtedly. Will I? Probably not. Nothing beats the feeling you get when someone's in your arms, and fuck, everyone knows it. But, how often do I feel it? Seldom. If at all. I'm a mess, I guess. It's what I asked for. It's what I needed.

For every one of my friends that hooks up with someone else, it's almost like a kick right to my chest. Not because they shouldn't be allowed to, because fun is fun and love is love no matter who you are. But, I guess I look at it by saying "when is it my turn?", and in actuality, my turn doesn't have to come now or ever. I hope it does, but there's no handbook that says that I have to find love. I want to so badly, I would give my right arm and right leg for it, and I just look at it like a cycle, and if on one side of a circle is "loneliness" and the other side is "togetherness", you have to reach the other side, eventually. If right now, I'm at "loneliness", hell, you know that one day this circle will roll around and place me on the side where I want to be. Waiting. Waiting is the worst process that I know, because you just can watch and wait and try and fail and that's what no one wants. I stopped being afraid of rejection because I got used to it, but there's a point where you just don't want to deal with it, anymore. Not because you are frightened by the prospect, but just because you expect shit to rain on you, and that's something you want to stay away from.

But, I still love. I love my friends. And I love the fact that every day, I can come to this little white box, and it won't process and understand what I have to say, but it will sure heed it, and hopefully, it will realize, someday, that there are people out there just like all of us, who love and hate, and there are people who have it much worse than me, and I won't ever deny that. Sometimes, I feel selfish talking about this kind of stuff, because it's almost like I am taking the feelings of everyone else who have ever lost or never loved and just thrown them aside. So, I apologize for that, and I apologize for not being good looking, because that's got to have something to do with it, right? Does it really even matter? I think that's a question that I'm not going to bother asking, because I could get a million lies that I don't ever want to hear.

So, I said what I said. And that's life, you know. But, I'm happy that I'm still here, because at least I have the opportunity to once again realize the natural phenomenon that is love. And, hey, who knows, maybe something will come along and I will once again be the boy who doesn't have a damn thing to complain about. Happiness Is All The Rage. The Promise Ring tells no lies.

Don't Let Me Drop By, Anymore.

Fri, 18 Mar 2005 03:43:29 GMT

Dearest You,
I wish that you knew.
Every bridge I burn, I'm burning just for you.

A promise ring slips comfortably over your thumb
Worn with much pride and much remorse.
Forever tethered to the sound of someone else's voice.
I know it gets scary, and that's why I'm here.
To hear you cry when it gets too tough
To give you faith when you think commitment is too much.
Lonely and spattered like the stars in the sky
I'm strewn up across the ceiling as a disguise
I'll use my back to block the sun,
and I hope I'm not burnt when my time here is done.
This is me walking past your house at night,
Watching blissful silhouettes through a pair of tired eyes.
Turning up the volume on my favorite love song,
And just waiting for pity's cloud to carry me to my bedroom door.
One day, that ring will move from thumb over a few,
And that ring will turn from plastic to gold.
And I'll be out of touch, thinking this is enough.
Don't let me drop by, anymore. I think it's time I go.
Common and blank, just paper yearning for ink
Just don't blink and it won't pass you by.
Believe me when I say that I'm happy, because I do.
I just hope I'm not waiting forever to someone like you.
Freedom's last ghost got cut in the updraft.
Floating over an ocean of senility and absence.
The fragrance of sorrow lingers stale and useless.
A perfume caked with blush and loneliness.
Welcome to property and the newest fashion craze.
It's called mistaking pleasure for love.
Except there's no minor key, with which we'll build a city.
I'm your little tritone in a box full of smiles and frowns.
I hate loving you as much as you love hating me.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
I'll pretend I don't hear you breathing.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
I'm so fucking dead, I should be decomposing.

Keep your voices down.

Tue, 15 Mar 2005 11:45:05 GMT

"Oh well, you've got me under your spell
And I don't think that I'm kidding around,
I don't think I can forget you, now.
I once sat up on my roof, examined the planning of my town.
Saw the structure grin at pavement, cutting through grass.
Remembered the cold of winter running up the legs of my pants
Picked the nicest lawn and imagined the two of us rolling around
Down along the ground.
Saw myself touch your face,
And I noticed jets begin to race above our heads.
And I pinched my arm, remembered how much you hate me
Remembered the fact I can't see what you need
Too stupid to be aware of the beauty that you give this place
And how shitty this town would seem without you in it
When you walked around, let the shades fall down.
Shut out all the sun's light, make myself feel alright.
What am I doing with my life?
Oh well, you've got me under your spell
And I don't think I'm kidding around,
I don't thinking I can forget you, now.
Remember, the only thing we need sometimes
Are chilly nights and warmer thighs.
Cause nothing's like being held, sometimes."

- Saves The Day