Fingers crossed.

I just want to show what I know.

Dead man, were you ever alive?

And I believe there is something here that was worth the weight. But I cannot love you. No, I cannot love you...no mistakes.

Admiration and Inspiration

"For the record, I have a very attractive girlfriend. She has a strong set of morals, she is well educated, and she thinks on a higher level than Halloween slut enablers could ever aspire to. Even if she were obese and monstrously deformed, I’d still choose someone like her over one of these girls."

Allusion

We love what you love. We take what you need. I have never allowed myself to think about what I want, but my lungs always know the right time to breathe.

I look at my body and feel like a voyeur. This is a place for me too, right? My skin is surprisingly unmarked by these years, and I wonder when it will show? I have more to give, I have more to take.


I would drink the poison for you. Now tell me, would you stab yourself in the heart before even checking my pulse?

Verbatim.

"They say people can't change, but I want you to prove them wrong everyday."

Amputate.

It does not hurt too much to have your arms broken off. Watch me fly and cut this string.

The silence of my bedroom is what I will come home to after I live each day for myself.

I have revolutionary thoughts but no speaker. I have an audience but no podium. I have a heart but no arteries. These ideals stay idle.
These idols stay idle.

Kiss her goodbye and stab her in the back when she turns away.

The Calendar Hung Itself

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes?
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you.

Oh does he know that place below your neck that is your favourite to be touched,
and does he cry through broken sentences that I love you far too much?
Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes.

Is he coughing now, on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more,
you won’t ever see.
but you must hold inside yourself eternally.

Well I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper, "Here is where you rest."
I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees,
and I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her.
She had eyes bright enough to burn me. They reminded me of yours.
And In a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field
and there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed.

And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands.
And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end
where I wrote,
You make me happy
oh when skies are gray.
You make me happy oh when skies are gray, and gray, and gray.

Well the clock’s heart it hangs inside its open chest
with its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself
but I will not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who've left there's a few that stayed.
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid.