(no subject)
If you have ever wondered why the shins are amazing read this...
Know your Onion
shut out, pimpled and angry.
i quietly tied all my guts into knots.
gave up on trying to make them,
i figured it'd take them too long to look up and besides...
it was undeniably clear to me i don't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew what worthless dregs we've always been.
lucked out and found my favorite records
lying in wait at the birmingham mall.
the songs that i heard,
the occasional book
were the only fun i ever took.
and i got on with making myself.
the trick is just making yourself.
but when they're parking their cars on your chest
you've still got a view of the summer sky
to make it hurt twice when your restless body
caves to its whims
and suddenly struggles to take flight...
three thousand miles north east
i left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
"what kind of life you dream of? you're allergic to love."
yes i know but i must say in my own defense
it's been undeniably dear to me, i don't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew the worthless dregs we are,
the selfless, loving saints we are,
the melting, sliding dice we've always been.
or even this
Pressed In A Book
Doted on like seeds planted in rows
the untied shoelaces of your life
nutured all year then presssed in a book
or displayed in bad taste at the table
problems arise and you fan the fire
while there's a wild pack of dogs loose in your house tonight.
cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
add it up and basically people never change.
they just talk and make plans in the dark
or make haste with ideas that can't help
but creep good people out
as you talk to me too much you're assuming
we don't always want what's right.
did i strike the right set of chords? you're annoyed.
the goal is to ignite you then move on.
you feel ill at ease. you got no squeeze.
and the wise cracks won't make you more stable.
you've learned you lines to scale and to time.
why must i remind you now i'm only less able.
cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
we're ordinary people we can't help but to change
as we walk and make plans in the dark
or make haste with the boy who can't help
but creep good people out.
as you talk to me too much you're assuming
we don't always want what's right.
two fallen saplings in an open field.
snow padding gently on an empty bench.
an old woman's jewelry lying unadorned.
colo nesting robins allied for the first time.
i know when you hear these sappy lines
you'll roll your eyes and say "nice try".
Know your Onion
shut out, pimpled and angry.
i quietly tied all my guts into knots.
gave up on trying to make them,
i figured it'd take them too long to look up and besides...
it was undeniably clear to me i don't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew what worthless dregs we've always been.
lucked out and found my favorite records
lying in wait at the birmingham mall.
the songs that i heard,
the occasional book
were the only fun i ever took.
and i got on with making myself.
the trick is just making yourself.
but when they're parking their cars on your chest
you've still got a view of the summer sky
to make it hurt twice when your restless body
caves to its whims
and suddenly struggles to take flight...
three thousand miles north east
i left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
"what kind of life you dream of? you're allergic to love."
yes i know but i must say in my own defense
it's been undeniably dear to me, i don't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew the worthless dregs we are,
the selfless, loving saints we are,
the melting, sliding dice we've always been.
or even this
Pressed In A Book
Doted on like seeds planted in rows
the untied shoelaces of your life
nutured all year then presssed in a book
or displayed in bad taste at the table
problems arise and you fan the fire
while there's a wild pack of dogs loose in your house tonight.
cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
add it up and basically people never change.
they just talk and make plans in the dark
or make haste with ideas that can't help
but creep good people out
as you talk to me too much you're assuming
we don't always want what's right.
did i strike the right set of chords? you're annoyed.
the goal is to ignite you then move on.
you feel ill at ease. you got no squeeze.
and the wise cracks won't make you more stable.
you've learned you lines to scale and to time.
why must i remind you now i'm only less able.
cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
we're ordinary people we can't help but to change
as we walk and make plans in the dark
or make haste with the boy who can't help
but creep good people out.
as you talk to me too much you're assuming
we don't always want what's right.
two fallen saplings in an open field.
snow padding gently on an empty bench.
an old woman's jewelry lying unadorned.
colo nesting robins allied for the first time.
i know when you hear these sappy lines
you'll roll your eyes and say "nice try".