call me old-fashioned, but... (or: "at least pretend you didn't want to get caught.")

you think you have tricks but you're already old news.
i don't know about you, but i don't call this beauty.
you twist with your secret held close to your chest,
but when you display it you start to lose me.
so stop showing off your most prized possession
because i know just what you're worth.
your body is covered in diamonds,
but my hands are covered in earth.

one five six four (or: tl;dc)

i'm sick and tired of all your shit
you're a fucking four-chord wonder, baby,
you'll let anyone use you,
and maybe you sound a little different each time,
but it always feels the same
and it's easy to tell when you're faking your excitement.
i can't wait til it stops being fun altogether.

I-95, drafting, 10:26 p.m.

i've got to find something new
because i'm tired of these chords
i'm tired of this noise
i've heard everything already and now
all that's left is the notes
i'll only hear after i'm dead

you're the wind that chokes the sand
you're the clay that covers my hands
now every little thing feels the same
and i know where to assign the blame

jesus turned water into wine, well
i turn girls into empty vodka bottles
so i can turn them in at the grocery store
drop them out of sight and get a nickel back
for my troubles

you're so misguided it's absurd
every time you use the wrong damn word
you catch me completely off my guard
but my wrist is already scarred
i've moved past all that angsty shit
i have so many clothes but none of them fit
you think i'm so much closer to what i want to be
but it's really just bad posture and a grain of deceit

door to door

seriously, how stupid can you be
to keep your legs that soft and pale?
you know the boys living around the corner
they have faces like saints but eyes like shale
and you've seen them and their crying fingers
and the winking smiles and the crooked teeth
and the steam of breath and the mussed-up hair
and the stupid cruelty that lies beneath

but you're safe from me, kiddo,
i'll tell you now that my fingers don't cry
they steal whatever my lichen eyes want
but my lichen eyes will be passing you by
because you come from someplace far less wet
and you mean most of the words you say
and you shake hands without asking where they've been
what you lack is a lack of faith

i find a lack of faith
so attractive

go home, little girl

you're not old enough to satisfy my morbid curiosity

"she screamed at me, 'i want to be desired!' i said, 'easy, girl, i know it hurts.' "

sometimes, babe, i just don't buy all your shit
and sorry, babe, he just dances better than you
and i'm a shitty man, kiddo, because
it's so funny
to watch you fall so hard
for all the easy lies i tell you

if there were a fire i'm sure
you would throw yourself on top of me
to make sure you burned first.
i would feel no remorse.
no survivor's guilt.
no guilt at all.
you'd die happy anyway.

god, you have no idea how much i need to get my ass kicked

times change and people change with 'em

for once you surprised me
when you showed up on my doorstep.
you told me i didn't have any answers
but then you asked for them anyway.
with your hands outstretched.

i almost told you to stop being
a vain and destructive false idol
before you turned your adoring fans
into nothing but the pavement under our feet
but you don't get it.

you're an empty bottle.
you're a shotgun shell.
you're a stormy day.
you're a summer clothing catalog.
you're the bike i had when i was ten years old.
you're a candle stub.
you're the ties that used to bind me to this place.


look, just go home, okay?
i don't want you.

sic transit gloria

once you were the lamb
and i can vouch for that but then you stopped
watching out and you didn't even care
when you turned yourself into the slaughterhouse

it stuns me sometimes how much you care
about yourself, every little detail
in syzygy: your venomous egotism, your careful persona,
and your mascara — not a lash out of place

on my back; you placed them in the
shape of a tic-tac-toe grid (in the spirit of fun)
and everyone's playing
but you win every time

is it all clear for you now
is it all clear for you now

said the blind man to the carpenter, you'll have no sleep tonight (or: i'm fucking dead)

charred trees against the sky
stuck in my headlights like another person
(or so i thought,
but look, i'm all alone again,
and no amount of god)

god is pounding his way through my eardrums
borne on the music of young men
(he's a clever one, he knows my weaknesses)
but you can't make yourself believe.
i wish i could tell my son that one day.

red black open graves as the crow flies all alone

you can drown yourself
you can drown yourself in sex,
seize it, take it from their willing hands,
you can commit a thousand murders,
rip the blood from fragile and gasping veins,
you can pull bottles dry
of misguided antiseptics,
but no amount of sex and blood and vodka
all over your silken body
no amount of god
all inside you
can erase the fact:
you are the human stain.
you will never stop hating yourself.

why am i so disjointed
why am i so scared all the time
why am i suddenly so scared all the time