1. |
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|
the little house on the corner never used to bother me,
until it was painted yellow and now i can hardly
look at it without being reminded of what i was
and what i will never get a chance to be.
my brother sneaks out
in the middle of the night,
climbing over fences,
leaving on the porch light.
and i hope he finds his way home,
'cause god knows i never could,
and i hope that he knows
he shouldn't stand where i stood.
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2. |
head first
04:30
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|
i smoke way too fucking much,
but i haven't coughed in a couple months.
i want to go outside. i haven't in days.
why don't you make up your mind,
and tell me all the things you'd say
if you were real,
and i'm not real.
how do you feel?
'cause i don't feel.
everything is gray except for ten minutes a day,
but still i stay inside.
i can't afford what i steal,
i don't want to finish a meal,
and every night i fall asleep terrified.
my dog doesn't look at me when i'm sad,
and she didn't care when i was gone for weeks.
i wonder if she'd care if i left.
i wonder if i mean as much as she means to me,
but i'm not real,
and you're not real.
how does she feel?
i feel too much.
give me an excuse
to follow anything out of this town.
rip the band-aid off,
and then just steal my paper crown.
i'll mind at first, but i assure you,
i'll get over it.
just dive head first into a life that's made up of fucking bullshit.
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3. |
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|
she sky was an orange colour, and starting to fade its hue,
just like you and me, or at least i do.
i just sat there in my car alone,
in the driveway of my home,
and i guess i just didn't know what to do next,
because you make this confusing,
and you make this do damn,
and somehow you make me want to endure it,
even though every nerve that i have says
just to run.
but i don't what to feel.
my distractions are not real,
and i can't find the time to sort any of all this out,
'cause i don't want to think
about it, or about you,
but somehow you just work your way into the back of my mind.
fuck you for all this,
and fuck you for this fortress
that i had to build around myself, that's slowly crumbling down.
i thought i was safe, but i have been mistaken.
the walls around me are breaking,
but no motive is clear.
no need to fear,
i think i see a rescue plane lingering above the clouds,
but i'm not sure.
it could just be a bird.
i guess i'll have to remember that every bruise
is just a hickey from the universe.
i'm not sure.
i never will be sure.
i'll have to remember ever bruise
is just a hickey from the universe.
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4. |
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|
whenever i leave the door open,
you always go.
i don't know why you make it so difficult.
why do you want to leave when you want to be with me
i test your patience and you're still sweet
do you remember what it’s like out there?
i hope you don’t have to, even though it has been years.
i have everything that you could need right here,
so don’t go wandering around.
don’t go wandering around.
i never was one to put you on a leash.
i always to let go, to let be,
but it still bothers me that you like to escape,
and that leaves me chasing you all day.
do you remember what it’s like out there?
i hope you don’t have to, even though it has been years.
i have everything that you could need right here,
so don’t go wandering around.
don’t go wandering around.
i have everything that you could need right here,
so don't go wandering around.
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5. |
the knife under my skin
03:14
|
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|
you told me you were afraid,
of what i do not know,
'cause your heart is cold as ice,
and your eyes are full of snow.
you never told me how you felt until it's already too late.
just cross my fingers, close my eyes,
and save the date
to when i'm not sad and dazed and confused,
and worried about the next time that i'll get to use,
'cause maybe i am even being used right now,
but i do not know it,
'cause she would never show it.
you knew what you were doing,
and i at least thought i had a clue,
and i don't know why i'm so forgiving
or why i let myself talk to you.
you told me you wanted me back into your life.
i told you "bitch, hit the road,"
and i bet those words stabbed you like a knife,
and you used that knife to ease your way back in,
and now i'm the one with a knife under my skin.
you knew what you were doing,
and i at least thought i had a clue,
and i don't know why i'm so forgiving
or why i let myself talk to you.
we're on the same damn blank page.
isn't that thought nice?
i used to say what i'm thinking,
but now i've started to think twice.
'cause we knew what you were doing,
and i let it happen anyway,
but here i am forgiving,
reluctantly have yet to walk away.
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6. |
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|
is this really what i’m worth,
not even a goodbye?
well, i guess you never cared if i hurt,
so why would i expect you to take into mind
how i feel, or where i’d go?
it doesn’t matter to you now,
because you burn bridges that you never cross.
thrown aside like the piece of trash i am, again.
why am i so fucking used to this?
lemon haze and rainy days never felt so bad before.
i just wanna know what all of this was done for.
well if you wanted to be gone,
why don't you just stay that way?
'cause i'm just waiting for a call where you'll say,
"it's all a misunderstanding. you just don't understand me.
i can go if you want,
but i'll make sure to hit you up at 2a.m.
and tell you i need to smoke.
i'm sad and i'm broke."
and i'll take pity on you again.
thrown aside like the piece of trash i am, again.
why am i so fucking used to this?
never felt so bad lemon haze and rainy days.
if you wanted to be gone, just stay that way.
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7. |
fuck me up
02:35
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|
i have lots of dreams
and lots of things i know i can’t attain,
but i still keep them in my fantasies,
and all it does is make me feel pathetic but
i can’t help but think that one day i’ll be happy.
i dream of one day making an escape
from this town with a girl i love,
and all we’d do is fuck around and smoke weed
and have adventures walking around at 3 am,
and i would tell you, “babe, you fuck me up.
you fuck me up like no one ever has,”
and you would say, “let me fuck you up.
let me fuck you up.
let me fuck you.”
but these are just dreams,
i'm really just here, alone, in my room,
thinking of things to do to occupy my time.
i whisper, "i miss you,"
to a figure that doesn't exist,
and i dream of one day making an escape
from this town with a girl i love,
and all we’d do is fuck around and smoke weed
and have adventures walking around at 3 am,
and i would tell you, “babe, you fuck me up.
you fuck me up like no one ever has,”
and you would say, “let me fuck you up.
let me fuck you up.
let me fuck you.”
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8. |
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you've been gone for a little while,
and i'd say that i don't mind,
but i've had to fill in all the empty space
with the sound of my voice talking to myself,
and it's been getting lonely.
the walls are closing in around me.
the smoke is stale,
i'm growing pale.
why am i alone right now?
am i just not fun to be around?
i must not be that fun to be around.
i'm quiet and i'm awkward.
i hold my breath until i know single word that i will have to say,
even though no one is listening.
no one's ever listening,
yet i still sing these stupid songs,
hoping that one day someone will sing along,
even if they're just alone in their room too,
hoping that one day,
they will experience greater
that will give them something to look forward to.
i need something to look forward to.
sick of standing still, but nowhere to go.
i’m sad and i am broke, and horribly alone.
i’m ready to replace all of the memories i have.
i’m ready to exist. i’m ready to pretend.
i need something to look forward to.
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9. |
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|
anyone that tells you you have a purpose
is telling a lie,
'cause the concept of deservance
doesn't exist outside the human mind,
but still i can't help but feel worthless
every moment of every day.
even though i know i have no value,
it wouldn't matter if i did anyway.
oh, i know, i know.
nothing good can come from this,
and i'm trying to be an adult,
but i keep tripping over my shoelaces.
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10. |
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////////////////////////////////////////////////
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11. |
smelling like incense
02:54
|
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|
usually i walk around smelling like incense,
but today i got advice:
put on some scented cologne that smells like flowers and things that are nice,
so when you go walking through nature and sunshine,
looking for anything you can find that’s new,
a butterfly with think that you make a nice flower and land on you.
and with its trust comes a feeling
you want to know more about,
but he flies far away,
and you’ve already figured it out.
usually i walk around smelling like incense,
but today i don’t have a choice.
i wreak of marijuana, light corona, bitter pills, and outer space,
‘cause i will do anything to distance myself from this place,
where i don’t got a thing to live for but my drugs and my dog,
and one day,
they’ll both be gone.
every night, in my dreams,
i leave my house and don't come home.
i wonder which one of these days it is that i will follow through,
'cause it is unsettling when you have no place to go,
but you find peace in the quiet and the butterflies and the stars.
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12. |
stuck with the bill
02:25
|
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|
i am at the bar,
and i cannot find a place to sit.
i become acquainted with my loneliness at all the times like this,
and i think about the things i'd say,
if only you would listen,
but i'm standing by the jukebox,
drinking away my depression.
the tip of my tongue's on fire
from the words that are burning there,
and your lips don't put them out,
they just push down all the air,
sending all the embers from the fire down to my throat,
i am burning on the inside
'cause my feelings have me chocked.
i'm sorry i can't help you right now.
it just feels like all my walls are crumbling down.
i'm tired of feeling crazy all the fucking time.
i'm tired of losing my mind.
i'm tired of losing my mind.
how could i ever help you when i'm only half a human?
my arms and legs might as well be named 'anxiety' and 'depression',
'boarderline personality', 'ADH-fucking-D'.
with all of these disorders,
it's hard to tell which is me,
and every day i live on this earth is dependency,
because every single fucking day is an emergency,
and i would call 911 but they couldn't give a fuck.
i just wish there was a way out of all of this,
'cause i feel stuck.
and all i know right now,
is i don't know anything.
i don't even know what to talk about when sing,
and i know that you don't understand and you probably never will,
but i'm tired of being stuck with the bill.
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13. |
back in an apartment
05:14
|
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|
it's quiet.
i don't know if i want to break the silence.
every word i say comes out wrong.
"focus," they say,
but i'm not a drone.
i'm a boy, with dreams and hopes of having a place to call my home.
i’m not cut out for all of this,
living second floor in a shitty apartment,
gang symbols on basketball courts,
rusted over monkey bars,
loose screws, duct tape, and splintered wood.
less than the children deserve,
but it’s all their parents can afford.
i'm tired,
but i'd never waste a high.
i know i'm a burden. i can see it in my mother's eyes.
she never hoped that her baby would turn out this way,
but i got nothing to say.
but she says, "join the real world, kid.
the work force has no time for any of all that anxiety bullshit.
pull yourself together, and then finally you'll be better
than you are right now, and how i am now too.
and that's all i could ever want for you."
but the circle of life is as the circle of life goes.
wherever i grow up is wherever i will go.
so, i guess i’ll catch the current as it moves steadily.
i want to move forward, but nothing else will take me.
|
||||
still real Georgia
just a miserable kid
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