VOLUME III

1. 97 Cents

Dear Notebook,
Thank you for taking my abuse,
It was cathartic to ruin you with my dirty notes
To disgrace your lily white pages with my messy artwork
I will look over you to take back my stabs I painted on you
You were ninety-seven cents, but worth so much more
I’m sorry about the time that I spilled my drink on your sleeve
We had the most secretes romance I’ve ever had
I told you things I’d be embarrassed to tell my dad
You are a Molotov cocktail
You kept me warm at night
You are revolutionary
You are a canary on fire
I’m sorry about the time I spilled my ink on your pages

And I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long, long time
And life is flat and it can seem boring
Well what am I trying to communicate here?

I’m sorry that my silence intimidates you
I swear it’s not that I try to
I recently learned that a whisper can be so much louder
And reach so much farther than a scream ever could.

I know I’m supposed to exude an arrogance that is successful
Attract things that are meaningful
But the truth is that I have nothing to offer you
So I blend in on the bus, in coffee shops and night clubs

 

2. Slide

Can I get romantic with myself?
Used to hate my smile
Now I’m learning to be bashful
Hey can I make myself smile?
Well the sound of your sex
The ribbon on your hip
I stare directly into your eyes,
I see everything, there’s nothing you can hide

Were so damn disconnected, could you put down your I-phone for just one second

I stare directly into your eyes
I see everything there’s nothing you can hide
We blush because we both know,
We want you out of your clothes
Stumble in the dark
My pain I’m learning to live with
Yeah I want to be bashful,
Tonight I’m going to forget it

Stumble in the dark
Life is hard, when you hate your smile

 

3. Saturday Night

You look like my ex-wife
Probably not the way to start a relationship right
I don’t go out on Saturday night
I go for a run
Write a song for an old friend
Count up paychecks
Looking at numbers get my bank account right
Smoke cigarettes
Count shooting stars
Across the moon at 2am
Write verbs till 3, try to go to sleep

Well I’m sorry that I wronged you
I’m sorry that my heart moved,
I’m sorry about your heart

I’ve gotten into decent shape
My body built like my mind
Stretched out and thin, bent in certain places
I’ve fallen off and gotten back on again
A greyhound bus that goes nowhere
I’ve searched and searched across the mainland
It all seems the same, it’s a shame

 

4. Sydney Part II

Dear Sydney I'm trapping you in a song
I hope your new friend he doesn't mind
I put you on wax, wrapped our time in cellophane
It's the only way that I know
How to say goodbye

Closure, conclusion
Closure, yeah I mean conclusion
Whatever gets me home, you know in bed faster

Well dear Sydney, 
Enjoyed our time spent at the movies
Watched you laugh at the screen
Nervous system broken
Hoping I could still breathe
I guess that's life credits roll
We hope our favorite characters, stay that way
Content

I meant it when I wrote
Life’s about concord grapes and sparkling cider
On picnic blankets
I hope you find it

If you see me looking sad on the street
Don’t be a stranger
Or do, whatever you want to
I have my coffee I have my orange juice
I have the new Serengeti CD in my Walkman
I’m living well it just doesn't look like it
I think you’re special
I hope you feel that way
Well conclusion closure it's all the same
Well conclusion closure dear Sydney, it's all the same

Dear Sydney,
I hope you make it there
Closure, conclusion, closure I hope you make it there

 

5. Rays

I need your rays
You are sunshine and I am darkness

Well there are things that were not supposed to talk about
Like dirty socks and when it’s time to take the trash out
And the night you called me and told me you cried all day
I was envious, I wished I was you

This is my life, and I guess it means that I’m alone a lot
And I killed two spiders in my apartment tonight
The third got away but I hit him with bug spray

And in my life I’ve waved to strangers
Hoping it was her

 

6. Alright

I make sound pollution for the lonely
For my friends who have always been alone
I sleep to the tones of Xanax and organic veggie dinners
I’ll make the beats for the loners
Who want to go to work then go home
And read the works of Homer
We have no choice but to take very cold showers

Well you're idea of fun is so ordinary
I want scars and stretch marks dimples in all the wrong places
I want to see it all but not by judging it
But by kindly exploration
My idea of fun is a CD that skips like it was worked over by a
DJ
Trying to make the perfect mix
Well, all he is trying to do is create the perfect mix
And I refuse to fall down in the shower

Well the fucked up part is, I’m starting to feel alright
And the fucked up part is, I’m starting to feel alright
And I can, talk and manipulate conversation
I can coast through awkward social situations

And it's as boring as all hell,
I’d rather go home

 

7. Trench Warfare

Insanity,
I guess it’s just a figure of speech
I was lost for so long
It’s been five months
How long is enough now?
I’m saying it now
You know I’m done
And I slip back and forth
But always more south
Then my compass points north
And in the present tense
I have nothing going on

How can I define that?
Well how do you define that?
I guess there is more to life than love
But it’s just not that exciting
I heard you ignore your loneliness
Hoping someday someone comes along and it’s beautiful
I recognize my fallacies
I hope it’s time we make a treaty

When the night comes and the only hand you’ve had to hold
Is a wooden post to kill all those vampires and ghosts
In my trench alone those are the longest nights
Every move to get comfortable might as well be a Vietcong
fight
It’s not black or white; it’s different shades of red
It’s just a complete mess

 

8. Letters

Well you are my friend
We hold hands at night
Intermingle arms and legs
Get twisted in blankets and sheets
Will be like hospital patients
When your mind has you down
I won’t try to you drag you up
Bring you tea and listen
When my heart breaks into a million little pieces
You won’t bring me glue
You’ll touch my hand and let me be silent

Oh god, I can barely remember the time we spent
Or the mole on your face
But I'll write you every Christmas
To remind us of the space we spent acting like hospital
patients

And I’ve been walking slower
The time I have to myself
Notice time moves with the pace of my feet
Now that I’m walking slower
I meet more people I see more things
But I haven’t seen you, I live in grime
I get the feeling it’s going to be a long, long, time
And grief it appears in stages
I like denial, the idea it never happened
I’m in acceptance, but I’m hoping that in the next ten seconds
I’ll forget it, I guess that’s not acceptance at all

 

9. Blue Moons

Will I start every notebook feeling like this?
Well I wish my metaphors weren’t metaphors at all
I feel sick all the time, pressed with a hundred ton blankets
Sits around my neck, it made my shoulders sore
There is a lot of games to be played
But I fold quick, just so I can sit and watch it

And I watch the sky and I notice the change in weather
And I see the sunrise and I see the stars set up the night sky
And a moon can make my blood shake
Bring me up and get me high
But when it wanes away it makes my blood stay
And fill up and go to that old place

Honesty is loud,
But if there is no one around,
does it even make a sound?

All these people, they look so happy
Dressed in their Sunday best gowns
Walk aimlessly through town
And I don’t have a dress to impress with
Paint it grows and shifts
Like the words that came out when we were breaking down

The tangy taste of soap and water
And I might be a ghost
Not the most social host
And unless you’re down for the game
Don’t expect words to burst aflame

 

10. Closure

Finishing up loose ends
Not making amends
And I want closure from my attacker
Does that even make sense?
Well the screen is black, black on all those chapters
And the screen it teared a hole, the screen it tears a hole
And the screen is black on all those chapters and it’s over
And I’ll be so gone by the time it comes around,
I'll be so gone by the time this thing comes around
And I was told I was dead inside
That’s why I can’t cry
It didn’t bother me
Psychic pain,
And I was told it gets better, I’m thinking I’ll have to wait
I’m told it gets better, well close the door and go to sleep

And I’ve been saying it over and over,
Life is flat and that’s okay,
And I’ve been saying it over and over,
I want a better reflection
I’ve been working on this reflection
I want a better reflection

Being alone is starting to be all right
I told my dad and my mom there is nothing to be sad about or happy
I’m not jumping for fucking joy but I’m not burning a hole in my arm either
I can’t rehash the past but I can’t look pretty far beyond my feet either
I want to get the hell out of here
I’m getting older
There may not be another chance to become the man I want to be
I’m getting alright with my body and now I have to come clean with me
I have to come clean with myself