To continue as such with such self confidence would be preposterous -- worn out, weary, like a warrior -- war paint faded. Trajectory suggests momentum, despite the gravity, and I'm heavier than ever.
Remember last year's promises, and how they were broken on a bathroom floor, and raised like a flag in mockery, above the city from the hill.
Well I'd revisit the gravesite, time and time again, and watch every joyous and bitter angle of the sun from the earth, as it would watch me every sleepless night.
And now the earth has covered the gravesite, but I still don't know why I can't sleep at night. Countless faces fill the room with light. I'm tired, but I still can't sleep at night.
I'll sleep alone tonight.
Track Name: Strong Hands
This late autumn cold would be so much easier had I not been teased by your warmth. I should've just made my bed and rested for the winter. But instead I let you in and let you leave your imprint in my bed. And now the sheets don't seem to fold back down on me.
Don't lie, don't lie to me.
Don't try to make this any better.
Don't make me think that I have
I am not your strong handed man.
Track Name: Another Song About The Petty Problems of a Privileged White Male
I'd be foolish to leave doors open. I can feel the gust of cold winds. I can hear the whistle of what-if's.
Your frantic fireballs of eyes, of soft skin, feed my fear of fall--a stitched up sweater for the fridged air.
And I can't help but ask myself, oh, can I break plans? Or can I even plan the inevitable? Is my crippling cough just a constant, and your seductive smile expendable?
I can't help but curse myself for never closing doors I open.