(no subject)
"Bowl Of Oranges"
The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming,
so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet.
I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said "{I am terribly sorry but} there is nothing I can do for you
{that} you can't do for yourself."
He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help."
So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt.
He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure.
Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow.
But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope.
That is why I'm singing...
Baby don't worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying,
I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad,
then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company
through those days so long and black.
And we'll keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve
Of Love's uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No Lies, Just Love"
It was in the march of the winter I turned seventeen
That I bought those pills
I thought I would need
And I wrote a letter to my family
Said it's not your fault
And you've been good to me
Just lately I've been feeling
Like I don't belong
Like the ground's not mine to walk upon
And I've heard that music
Echo through the house
Where my grandmother drank
By herself
And I sat watching a flower
As it was withering
I was embarrassed by its honesty
So I'd prefer to be remembered as a smiling face
Not this fucking wreck
That's taken its place
So please forgive what I have done
No you can't stay mad at the setting sun
Cause we all get tired, I mean eventually
There is nothing left to do but sleep
But spring came bearing sunlight
Those persuasive rays
So I gave myself a few more days
My salvation it came, quite suddenly
When Justin spoke very plainly
He said "Of course it's your decision,
But just so you know,
If you decide to leave,
Soon I will follow"
I wrote this for a baby
Who has yet to be born
My brother's first child
I hope that womb's not too warm
Cause it's cold out here
And it'll be quite a shock
To breathe this air
To discover loss
So I'd like to make some changes
Before you arive
So when your new eyes meet mine
They won't see no lies
Just love.
Just love.
I will be pure
No, no, I know i will be pure
Like snow, like gold
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sunrise, Sunset"
Sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
Swiftly go the days.
Sunrise, sunset.
You wake up, then you undress.
It always is the same.
A sunrise and a sunset.
You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain.
The sunrise and the sun sets you realize
and then you forget what you have been trying to retain.
But everybody knows that it is all about the things
that get stuck inside of your head,
like the songs your roommate sings
or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed.
She raised her hands in the air and asked you,
When was the last time you looked in the mirror?
Because you have changed.
Yeah, you have changed.
Sunrise, sunset.
You are hopeful and then you regret.
The circle never breaks.
With each sunrise and sunset there is a change of heart or address.
Is there nothing that remains?
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You are manic or you're depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?
It's a sunrise and sunset, your lover is an actress.
Did you really think she would stay?
For a sunrise and sunset.
You are either coming or you just left but you are always on the way.
Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same.
To the sunrise and the sunset.
The master and his servant have exactly the same fate.
It's a sunrise and a sunset.
From a cradle to a casket.
There ain't no way to escape.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Hold your sadness like a puppet, just keep putting on the play.
But everything you do is leading to the point
where you just won't know what to do.
And at that moment you may laugh
but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you.
So it's true, the trick is complete.
Now you have become everything you said that you never would be.
You're a fool! You're a fool!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
Go home to your apartment
and put the cassette in the tape deck and let that fever play.
Sunrise, sunset.
Where are you Arienette?
Where are you Arienette?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Drunk Kid Catholic"
The drunk kids, the catholics
They’re all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
Well I have been happy the past couple days
Just thinking of the women who’ve taken your place
And every night I think I certaintly won't ever sleep sober or alone
And then suddenly it occurs to me
I've slept alone before you
And so I pour myself the stiffest drink my stomach can stand
And convince myself to lay back down again
I’m gonna lay back down, I’m gonna lay back down again
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Waste Of Paint"
I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain. He wakes up, drives to work,
and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent.
And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.
I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
Until one day, she found out that he had lied and decided the rest of her life,
from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept.
What did you expect? In that big, old house with all those cars she kept.
"Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next,
you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.
She never got upset and with all the days she may have left,
she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best.
She was free to waste away alone.
Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
And he said, "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man.
No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!"
The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And you carelessness,
it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known,
your decisions are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone
on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
The last few months I have been living with this couple.
Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle.
I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery,
where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry",
just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.
So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride.
I just sit and watch the people there. They remind me of wind up cars in motion.
The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense.
And that their lives are one track, and can't they see how it is all pointless?
But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and
suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I have is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
Sometimes I park my car down my the cathedral, where floodlights point up at the steeples.
Choir practice is filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there is still some room left in the middle.
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off.
And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The Vanishing Act"
Were you surprised that we never spoke?
Then in the still of the night-when nothing stirs-
I woke and I gathered up some clothes.
I never planned on this but its the way it goes
and now it all seems so familiar like pages turned on calendars
we get the same twelve months to fuck things up-year after year-
and i can't believe how down i am like the well i'm being lowered in,
now water stops, the bucket drops us farther and farther down.
Well i guess that you never knew me, or at least not well enough.
So i fill my gut with dark red wine until my brain shuts off and my eyes go blind.
You won't see me there in that thick black air-yeah.
i'll finally make something disappear.
Because i've been practicing disappearing
and i think that i've got it down but now there is no sun just a cellar.
Nowhere is sky its just that black, black dirt.
Expanding outwards just echoes for answers
not that it matters if its back or its forwards.
Unhappy lovers with baskets of flowers use them as markers-
the place where your bed once stood a time when it still felt good.
But you'll get that feeling back,
you just need sometime to drink
and so i'll fill my gut with that blood red wine
until my insides swim and my veins unwind.
I'll be lying there in that hot white air once
that something is gone it might never reappear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I Won't Ever Be Happy Again"
Well morning came
And it dressed the sky
In a lovely yellow gown
Now the shops they are
All opening
In that narrow hallway of downtown
Filled with people who
Are shopping for
Their lovers and their friends
Saying they won't ever be lonely again
Well a forest fenced
becomes backyards
Like songs are born from sound
And the apple fell
And it taught us all
We are chained here to the ground
So, I mean, here we go
But there ain't no escape
No, these streets they're just dead ends
So I won't ever be happy again
Well, it seems you too
See a painful blue
When you stare into the sky
You'd never understand
The motion of a hand waving you goodbye
"Bye bye"
But as the story goes
or it is often told
A new day will arise
And all the dance halls will
Be full of skeletons
That are coming back to life
And on a grassy hill
the lion will
lay down with the lamb
And I won't ever be lonely again
No, no, no, no, no
But until that time
I think I had better find
some disbelief to suspend
Cause I don't want to feel like this again
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming,
so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet.
I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said "{I am terribly sorry but} there is nothing I can do for you
{that} you can't do for yourself."
He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help."
So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt.
He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure.
Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow.
But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope.
That is why I'm singing...
Baby don't worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying,
I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad,
then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company
through those days so long and black.
And we'll keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve
Of Love's uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No Lies, Just Love"
It was in the march of the winter I turned seventeen
That I bought those pills
I thought I would need
And I wrote a letter to my family
Said it's not your fault
And you've been good to me
Just lately I've been feeling
Like I don't belong
Like the ground's not mine to walk upon
And I've heard that music
Echo through the house
Where my grandmother drank
By herself
And I sat watching a flower
As it was withering
I was embarrassed by its honesty
So I'd prefer to be remembered as a smiling face
Not this fucking wreck
That's taken its place
So please forgive what I have done
No you can't stay mad at the setting sun
Cause we all get tired, I mean eventually
There is nothing left to do but sleep
But spring came bearing sunlight
Those persuasive rays
So I gave myself a few more days
My salvation it came, quite suddenly
When Justin spoke very plainly
He said "Of course it's your decision,
But just so you know,
If you decide to leave,
Soon I will follow"
I wrote this for a baby
Who has yet to be born
My brother's first child
I hope that womb's not too warm
Cause it's cold out here
And it'll be quite a shock
To breathe this air
To discover loss
So I'd like to make some changes
Before you arive
So when your new eyes meet mine
They won't see no lies
Just love.
Just love.
I will be pure
No, no, I know i will be pure
Like snow, like gold
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sunrise, Sunset"
Sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
Swiftly go the days.
Sunrise, sunset.
You wake up, then you undress.
It always is the same.
A sunrise and a sunset.
You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain.
The sunrise and the sun sets you realize
and then you forget what you have been trying to retain.
But everybody knows that it is all about the things
that get stuck inside of your head,
like the songs your roommate sings
or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed.
She raised her hands in the air and asked you,
When was the last time you looked in the mirror?
Because you have changed.
Yeah, you have changed.
Sunrise, sunset.
You are hopeful and then you regret.
The circle never breaks.
With each sunrise and sunset there is a change of heart or address.
Is there nothing that remains?
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You are manic or you're depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?
It's a sunrise and sunset, your lover is an actress.
Did you really think she would stay?
For a sunrise and sunset.
You are either coming or you just left but you are always on the way.
Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same.
To the sunrise and the sunset.
The master and his servant have exactly the same fate.
It's a sunrise and a sunset.
From a cradle to a casket.
There ain't no way to escape.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Hold your sadness like a puppet, just keep putting on the play.
But everything you do is leading to the point
where you just won't know what to do.
And at that moment you may laugh
but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you.
So it's true, the trick is complete.
Now you have become everything you said that you never would be.
You're a fool! You're a fool!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
Go home to your apartment
and put the cassette in the tape deck and let that fever play.
Sunrise, sunset.
Where are you Arienette?
Where are you Arienette?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Drunk Kid Catholic"
The drunk kids, the catholics
They’re all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
Well I have been happy the past couple days
Just thinking of the women who’ve taken your place
And every night I think I certaintly won't ever sleep sober or alone
And then suddenly it occurs to me
I've slept alone before you
And so I pour myself the stiffest drink my stomach can stand
And convince myself to lay back down again
I’m gonna lay back down, I’m gonna lay back down again
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
The drunk kids, the catholics
They're all about the same
They’re waiting for something
Hoping to be saved
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
They crawl from the oceans
To paint in the caves
But I’m working all weekend
I need to get paid
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Waste Of Paint"
I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain. He wakes up, drives to work,
and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent.
And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.
I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
Until one day, she found out that he had lied and decided the rest of her life,
from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept.
What did you expect? In that big, old house with all those cars she kept.
"Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next,
you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.
She never got upset and with all the days she may have left,
she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best.
She was free to waste away alone.
Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
And he said, "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man.
No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!"
The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And you carelessness,
it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known,
your decisions are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone
on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
The last few months I have been living with this couple.
Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle.
I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery,
where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry",
just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.
So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride.
I just sit and watch the people there. They remind me of wind up cars in motion.
The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense.
And that their lives are one track, and can't they see how it is all pointless?
But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and
suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I have is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
Sometimes I park my car down my the cathedral, where floodlights point up at the steeples.
Choir practice is filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there is still some room left in the middle.
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off.
And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The Vanishing Act"
Were you surprised that we never spoke?
Then in the still of the night-when nothing stirs-
I woke and I gathered up some clothes.
I never planned on this but its the way it goes
and now it all seems so familiar like pages turned on calendars
we get the same twelve months to fuck things up-year after year-
and i can't believe how down i am like the well i'm being lowered in,
now water stops, the bucket drops us farther and farther down.
Well i guess that you never knew me, or at least not well enough.
So i fill my gut with dark red wine until my brain shuts off and my eyes go blind.
You won't see me there in that thick black air-yeah.
i'll finally make something disappear.
Because i've been practicing disappearing
and i think that i've got it down but now there is no sun just a cellar.
Nowhere is sky its just that black, black dirt.
Expanding outwards just echoes for answers
not that it matters if its back or its forwards.
Unhappy lovers with baskets of flowers use them as markers-
the place where your bed once stood a time when it still felt good.
But you'll get that feeling back,
you just need sometime to drink
and so i'll fill my gut with that blood red wine
until my insides swim and my veins unwind.
I'll be lying there in that hot white air once
that something is gone it might never reappear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I Won't Ever Be Happy Again"
Well morning came
And it dressed the sky
In a lovely yellow gown
Now the shops they are
All opening
In that narrow hallway of downtown
Filled with people who
Are shopping for
Their lovers and their friends
Saying they won't ever be lonely again
Well a forest fenced
becomes backyards
Like songs are born from sound
And the apple fell
And it taught us all
We are chained here to the ground
So, I mean, here we go
But there ain't no escape
No, these streets they're just dead ends
So I won't ever be happy again
Well, it seems you too
See a painful blue
When you stare into the sky
You'd never understand
The motion of a hand waving you goodbye
"Bye bye"
But as the story goes
or it is often told
A new day will arise
And all the dance halls will
Be full of skeletons
That are coming back to life
And on a grassy hill
the lion will
lay down with the lamb
And I won't ever be lonely again
No, no, no, no, no
But until that time
I think I had better find
some disbelief to suspend
Cause I don't want to feel like this again
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------