1. |
Grave of Pints
04:24
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hold on to the weight of a last resort
it's the curtain call back at 2am
where the bartender bows for the final cut
it's a medley of sweat and confidence
it's a song with some notes i aint ever seen
then again i can't read what's in front of me
it's a playwright asleep right behind his pen
and that song from the start coming back again
there's a false death when you get home at night
like some juliet in a grave of pints
did you even wake up with the stage lights
or did work call to see if you're alright?
did that girl in black at the end of the bar
take your offer of some dry, old noir
or did she see through you, like you do of me
we're not even stars in our own little play.
that's true
they've all
seen through you
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2. |
The Benefit
04:15
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try
your best
to forget about the night
the last time that you slept without a stir
a word
with yourself
will not suffice to melt the ice that's forming on your mind
i don't mind
be kind
or don't
i can't expect you to resign your time
so I'll stand back and get in line
a smile
white teeth
like the snow that falls between your eyes, you're blind
and looking through me.
it's not the last thing that I thought
it's just that unwelcomed guest when the night cools off
it's not a shame, and it's less than loss
it's just an empty seat when the plane takes off
it's not you
i'll give you the benefit
it's not you
but I'm filled with doubt.
doubt
the thought
that you can't be asked to check and see what's good with you
what's good with me?
i see
that the only thing to be is solitary, and chilly while I breath
exhale your greed.
it's not the last thing that I thought
it's just that unwelcomed guest when the night cools off
it's not a shame, and it's less than loss
it's just an empty seat when the plane takes off
it's not enough to be everything
(a little more and I'll mean anything)
it's not enough to see me quivering
(a little loss can't leave us withering)
it's not you
i'll give you the benefit
it's not you
but I'm filled with doubt
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3. |
Life Jacket
04:03
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this condition is pure
panic organic
feed it to the unsure
at a mark up
i feel blessed to be here
alternatively
my options were not clear
so I exist
this life jacket is making me sink
this weight cannot combat the waves of time
i may only be here for another day, a month
or more
that's the catch with living charade, i can't
even begin to plan my time
i could be under a dock, with a feast for the fish
upon my spine
but I won't be so cavalier
i'll remember everything I fear
as I drown in my spinal fluid.
now I can't breath
the air is stymied
by a brain
that's left behind me
i thought I could do it alone
but the grindstone is my heart and home
so sharpen your teeth in vain
the words don't bite nice anyway
on the bank of mossy lake
i lay, will it consume and cover me?
i could be more than a dork, than a civilized swine,
i'm probably fine
i can cast to prettiest pool, it's cool,
i'll still find a way to snap my line
i can't appreciate the weight of fate
she never asked.
i fall short of
dreams that last
i culled the flowers from the bank at dawn
and wore the crown that I placed them on
i'm swinging. i'm choking
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4. |
||||
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calm
just breath
exhale
there's air still waiting
for
your lungs
beneath
a chest inflating
fill it up with all of your dreams
all of the loose seams
a threadbare scene
still waiting
i assumed there would be more
before I'm bitter and old
but I don't know
react
to all
you feel
with indiscretion
for
the ones
you love
is this depression?
or just an expectation
from a lie you were spun
but my therapist is
still waiting
for me to use my words
to explain why I hurt
but I don't even know
so why don't I step back to
reassess everything
wind up unraveling
everything, anyone
i could be anything
that's what they told me but
i exist in a row home
unscrewing a bottle
to keep away thoughts
of life that's too hollow
yet you want my heart
want my soul
want my demons
this grave that I dig
you seem content
to fall asleep in
i guess I can wake up for that
wait
the dog
might cry
if you stop breathing
i guess
that's good
enough
of a reason
to make a plan for a change
a requiem for a day
where I want to skip next season
this is all cyclical
when it's back in vogue
i just don't know
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5. |
Come For The Day
03:48
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it's begging
on bent knee
to form its
shape to me
a simple
reformation
of my
indignation
but that’s just a lack of ambition
some lazy sedition
a line and a license cut up in the kitchen
you can't chase a fault line
this is never-ending
so follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me
to a lake
there's more
space to drown
out all
of this noise
from what's
underground
among the last of my ego
the puddle of id
that's put me back onto prescriptions again
so this referendum
won't need an addendum
what's done is done is done is done is done
come
for
the
day
and witness this fault line
the ghost of what was mine
just witness this fault line
it never ends. it never ends
i'm begging
on bent knee
form your
shape to me
i need a
reformation
for this
situation
but i've had a lack of ambition
unwilling to try
anything that could better you and or i
it's impossible that i've done the improbable
and changed perspectives that dwell within my hazy eyes
i think it's in my dreams
it's calling in my sleep
i think it's on the screen
it's calling in my sleep
i think i need to leave
it's calling in my sleep
i think i need to leave
it's calling in my sleep
off the hook
off the edge
out the seam
see it in the corner
it's shortly leaving
it's not there
you're only dreaming
all you ever do
is chase your demons
they're not there
you're only dreaming
maybe you can leave
but they're all contagious
they're not there
you're only dreaming
when you fall asleep
do you dream of angels?
they're not there
you're only dreaming
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6. |
yr Angau
04:31
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call off the march
back to the start
i sense a circle completing its arc
drive through the fog
yr angau stalks
don't stop and stare, just continue your walk
i'm barely threaded at the seams
this sheen
has rolled off me
unclean
light is passing right through me
a sea
of dreams demeaned
and unseen
pushing pulling
out of your flesh
the heart in your chest
the ribs that will crack under the weight of dirt
souls that won't connect
or cannot collect
any memory left
stop with the motion of the spinning clocks
just sit with a moment and your gathered thoughts
you'll fall through the cracks of the weathered rock
that took residence in your aging heart
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7. |
January
05:07
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hope requires no anchor
we can move on without it
but the waters leave me wary
of a form i've seen surrounded
by a swirling, cosmic ego
collected of the consciousness
from a raging bout of narcissism
the midwife to hopelessness
it may seem unbecoming
but if the option is to wade a bit
through a pool of piranha’s teeth
then maybe we should take the hint
that our face is not our own to save
our soul is not our own to shape
our figure not our own to love
we are who we love and what love we make
a simple act, an aggressive fit
a dream suppressed, a fading wit
a last-ditch effort to make it out
a stack of bills, a burning house
what we are is the least of us
the most of us won't make the cut
if we wade with that cosmic ego
collected of the consciousness
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