1. |
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So the rainy season's come to try and wash away what we saw in each other and all the plans we made.
I'll keep my eyes open, but it's hard to stay awake when there's something new and sickening in each and every day.
I thought that there were feelings that I could keep if I tried hard enough, but there they go again to try and prove me wrong. And it's hard to say I'll miss them with a mouthful of rust.
Here I am. This is me, and I'm pale enough to pass through. I can't even hold onto the past, but I just can't get it out of my head.
Now ghosts are haunting this New England campus.
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2. |
Dumpkinhead: The Return
03:20
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If I could say and do what I mean, I would fix everything. But half-a-month away (and I've counted to the day) I'll disappear completely.
So I'm ripping out my guts and I'm trying to grow up. But I'm scared to death of how I'll fuck this up.
...and it reminds me that all my favorite things about the Fall won't mean anything with my hands balled into fists so tight.
Warm beer and basement shows. Now tell me, will they lose their glow?
If I could say and do what I mean, I'd ruin everything. The future is a waste of time and breath and space. I'll ruin everything.
Bury me in the dying leaves. It's more than I deserve.
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3. |
The Tape in April
03:41
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And so, my dear, I've taken to studying your dreary record, and here's what I've found:
A funeral dress, flowers to match, and an old man at the table shaking his head.
The things you choose to keep in tiny golden boxes can only weigh you down and serve to hurt you.
But awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping... the things you longed to be, they were all that I could see.
And you really snapped me in two, but I still want you to know that the place your head is at is not uncommon. The pillow's weighted down from those before.
So I'll say it as your friend. This doesn't change a thing.
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4. |
Coffin-Shaped Candy
04:14
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two weeks. fourteen days.
(it's enough time to dig a grave)
thirteen nails and one night's time to show you why
I regret everything I say.
I wanted to keep you soldered to my chest:
a two-headed, tongue-tied monster
in a twin-size bed.
...and if by some chance we die before we wake,
at least careful hands have crafted us a place
to lay.
So, we'll kiss quiet now, so as not to wake the rats
or whatever's out there with us tonight.
I'm getting tired of fighting you off.
If you're going to follow me, then follow me
into the hole I dug.
This could be what you wanted for us now:
side by awful side underneath the frozen ground.
We'll get comfortable inside the box we made.
Hollow trees will sing to us and our mistakes.
two weeks. fourteen days.
enough time to dig our grave.
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5. |
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I've been in this house before. There are faces in the windows mocking me. They say "you can't hold onto nothing. No, this never meant a thing," and I guess that they're right. They've been watching the whole time.
So, I'll ignore what I'm given, and there's nothing you can say. With how transparent I've been, life's been slipping through my fists.
There's nothing here for me except another way to tell myself I'm empty. Now I'm emptier than ever. Hearts lay in heaps on the floor next to our clothes. If you listen you can hear them. They'll cough and sputter a song.
(here's a startling realization: I could've been anyone)
Oh, what tangled ropes we've woven to hang our crooked necks by. I thought I had gathered all the pieces and I was stitched up, but a seam's not what it seems (or so it seems.)
So, if you tug at me, here's just what you'll find: a crumpled mass of leaves that I like to call my guts and a tiny ball of dirt that used to be my heart.
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