(no subject)
This is the last song john and justin and i wrote for cowboy motif last summer. nobody will ever hear it. i dont think john or justin liked the second stanza at all but whatever.
green rain covered everything
cars floated away in the stream
no cops, no fire engines
no traffic lights, no intersections
there's no reason to stay
when the basement's flooded,
your home town has floated away
when the sun comes out
tomorrow
we'll be on top of the clouds
thunderstorms won't drown us
thunderstorms won't drown us out
Now i'm writing shit with mikey and kevin and its totally different and fucked up and we don't know what we're doing but we're doing it anyway and it's like a roller coaster, every other practice i'm really excited, every other practice i'm super discouraged.
Like the high, like the fall
i'm ascending now,
hanging in the head of a weather heavy cloud
...part of me knows...
like the ice, like the snow
i'm melting now,
cradled in the base of a low part of the ground
...part of me knows...
i think no matter what i ever do again, i'll always compare it to my level of elation during tour last summer. and i'll probably always be dissappointed that i'm not as proud as i was then, and not having quite as much fun.
we drove fast under the afternoon sun
to a house on the outside of some small town
and on the highway there were billboards staring down
telling us to buy something or stay the night
but i just laughed and put my foot on the gas
and the clouds swirled round and the twilight sky smiled at us
and our station wagon pulled up around dusk
and the kids on the porch smoked cigarettes and watched
as we loaded in the basement where we played
and made some new friends and 'siezed the day'
and as an anarchist screamed with an acoustic guitar
in the living room with all of his friends
i took a deep breath and i looked around the room
and i wished that this scene would never end
like souls set fire flying through the night
a swarm of fireflies surrounded the house
a thousand glowing little asses gave us so much light
they illuminated the whole town
and strangers cooked us dinner on the stove
and the smell of pasta drifted through the windows
and summer air filled each and every lung
as our eyes grew wide with looks of love
and we were happy then to know at each sunset
we'd have a new place to sleep a new basement to play a set
we'd never grow old and we'd never get bored
we'd never go home, never do chores
and we'd stay up real late and sleep during the day
with all of our friends all together we'd play
all the sad songs we wrote about not growing up
about not growing up about not growing up.
i used to be so bummed about growing up that every song was about it in some way. now my songs are either about really bizarre shit, being happy, sleeping, or not wanting to do so many drugs. i'm ok with this transition.
lisa painter sits on the grass
upon a towel by a pile of trash
its november but she's getting tan
daylightsavings won't spoil her plans
she drops her pants and takes off her vest
exposing stretch marks on her sweaty breasts
autumn's ending but she's not upset
she never ever really gets upset
she holds a radio up to her ear
underneath all of that grey orange hair
and its so loud that i can hardly hear
what she's thinking but i guess that's fair
she gained weight after giving birth to
forty bison and a can of worms
she made changes so she won't again but
it makes me really want to wear her skin
to peel it off
and stretch it out
and put it on
and dance around.
so in summation, i'm feeling nostalgic, and i'm nervous about whether or not i'm goign to 'become' anything. but when i really reflect, i guess i've done a lot of stuff in my life, and if i died i wouldn't be particularly dissappointed. i've done everything i've set out to do i guess. that's what happens to spoiled kids with good work ethics, they're the adults who always get what they want.
now ijust have to watch out that that hubristic attitude doesn't wind up fating me with a cancer i can't beat. see you in another life.
green rain covered everything
cars floated away in the stream
no cops, no fire engines
no traffic lights, no intersections
there's no reason to stay
when the basement's flooded,
your home town has floated away
when the sun comes out
tomorrow
we'll be on top of the clouds
thunderstorms won't drown us
thunderstorms won't drown us out
Now i'm writing shit with mikey and kevin and its totally different and fucked up and we don't know what we're doing but we're doing it anyway and it's like a roller coaster, every other practice i'm really excited, every other practice i'm super discouraged.
Like the high, like the fall
i'm ascending now,
hanging in the head of a weather heavy cloud
...part of me knows...
like the ice, like the snow
i'm melting now,
cradled in the base of a low part of the ground
...part of me knows...
i think no matter what i ever do again, i'll always compare it to my level of elation during tour last summer. and i'll probably always be dissappointed that i'm not as proud as i was then, and not having quite as much fun.
we drove fast under the afternoon sun
to a house on the outside of some small town
and on the highway there were billboards staring down
telling us to buy something or stay the night
but i just laughed and put my foot on the gas
and the clouds swirled round and the twilight sky smiled at us
and our station wagon pulled up around dusk
and the kids on the porch smoked cigarettes and watched
as we loaded in the basement where we played
and made some new friends and 'siezed the day'
and as an anarchist screamed with an acoustic guitar
in the living room with all of his friends
i took a deep breath and i looked around the room
and i wished that this scene would never end
like souls set fire flying through the night
a swarm of fireflies surrounded the house
a thousand glowing little asses gave us so much light
they illuminated the whole town
and strangers cooked us dinner on the stove
and the smell of pasta drifted through the windows
and summer air filled each and every lung
as our eyes grew wide with looks of love
and we were happy then to know at each sunset
we'd have a new place to sleep a new basement to play a set
we'd never grow old and we'd never get bored
we'd never go home, never do chores
and we'd stay up real late and sleep during the day
with all of our friends all together we'd play
all the sad songs we wrote about not growing up
about not growing up about not growing up.
i used to be so bummed about growing up that every song was about it in some way. now my songs are either about really bizarre shit, being happy, sleeping, or not wanting to do so many drugs. i'm ok with this transition.
lisa painter sits on the grass
upon a towel by a pile of trash
its november but she's getting tan
daylightsavings won't spoil her plans
she drops her pants and takes off her vest
exposing stretch marks on her sweaty breasts
autumn's ending but she's not upset
she never ever really gets upset
she holds a radio up to her ear
underneath all of that grey orange hair
and its so loud that i can hardly hear
what she's thinking but i guess that's fair
she gained weight after giving birth to
forty bison and a can of worms
she made changes so she won't again but
it makes me really want to wear her skin
to peel it off
and stretch it out
and put it on
and dance around.
so in summation, i'm feeling nostalgic, and i'm nervous about whether or not i'm goign to 'become' anything. but when i really reflect, i guess i've done a lot of stuff in my life, and if i died i wouldn't be particularly dissappointed. i've done everything i've set out to do i guess. that's what happens to spoiled kids with good work ethics, they're the adults who always get what they want.
now ijust have to watch out that that hubristic attitude doesn't wind up fating me with a cancer i can't beat. see you in another life.