VOLUME XIII

1. Nothing Moves

I remember that born again Christian girl with cutoff jeans
She had cuts underneath her sleeves
And I was surprised and I became shy
And I was naïve at the time
Now I wonder what it would be like,
Would she stare inside my two dead eyes?
I dreamt nothing moves and I dreamt nothing moves you
Nothing moves you,
So you move into gentleman in the morning that you’d call a mistake
And I think it’s too late to shower you off,
Scrub the come off your legs
Your office wear doesn’t disguise your dirty hair
And this whole scene makes me feel completely apathetic
And the worst part is that you’ve become so damn pathetic

 

2. Getting Closer

No one talks because if the truth comes out then we’d all feel just a bit overwhelmed
And maybe that’s my fault
I think we’re getting closer to the end because now there’s nothing left to be said
You sit with your interior of defense,
The people you call friends,
Well they’ve depleted your almost empty war chest
And we’ll silent forever,
Underground inside of our respective war bunkers

 

3. Fairy Tales

I always thought of Charlie Brown as a man of the people
And you say you care,
Are you willing to carry the weight that you’re the only one
Innate conversations overheard on the bus
Innate conversations that I’d rather not be a part of
Well miss piggy tails,
Who smiles a Listerine breath of hate,
She’s married to the god of war now,
A match made in the most terrible fairy tale,
Pregnant with a shopping cart that’s completely filled with dead daffodils 

 

4. Art Supply Stores

Oh God, how did I become such a miserable fuck?
I’m pretty sure I deserve what’s ever coming towards me
So I hide behind songs that are actually my mistakes
And who is this new persona?
And what are you trying to fake?
Most of the time now, I’m lost in paint,
I went down to the art supply store
Too buy some new colors, to color my eyes
If we could be honest,
We might just loose it all,
I wish I could write you a song that’d make you talk to me
But some songs they just don’t hold the same meanings,
Like they did under a sky that held the promise,
A promise of meaning,
I wish I could write you a song

 

5. Arrows

Just so you know suffering,
It’s beautiful only to a certain point,
Then it’s ugly
But we don’t want to end up with empty notebooks
So do you go out to exploit the feelings you’ve been trying to avoid                                                                                                   
Just looking for something to write about?                                  
Well, trust me baby, you were right about me
And I’ve been having a hard time digging my own arrow out of the dirt
I’ve been waking up with one-sided arguments with a universe that I still don’t quite understand
Watching a nuclear sunset with a chest full of regret
A sky of red that I still don’t get
To understand,
Do you stand under a nuclear sunset with a chest full of regrets?

 

6. Future Dating

You only get to write your own obit if,
Well if you earned it
And it seems unfair that some stranger with white, white hair
In a foreign office gets to write all our endings
Will there be someone who will change my ending?
This club is filled with scorned lovers and everyone’s looking for a mate
But everyone here, none of them even have a date
You’re going out to find your future ex-wife
And you have dreams of children that you’d soon come to hate
I’ve been taking showers to change my body’s temperature
And I take a shower to ease any kind of stomach pain

 

7. Other People's Thoughts

In the mosh pit I created,
Could you see that I could dance alone?
With my crown crashed and my thrown overrun by men that I do not know
Could you see I’m not the man that you used to know?
Or am I exactly how you thought I’d be?
It was raining and sleeting but the evening sun was still out
I saw you inhaling smoke with the strangest folk
And I heard a cop humming “London Calling”

 

8. Next Month

New boss, same dildo,
Always afraid of withering away
That’s why my days are planned so far in advance
Frustration takes a toll
So many long weeks, how’d you get so old?
I’m suspicious of a singer who can’t sing,
Sold his guitar and goes to the bar
But never orders a drink