if you took out the bedsheet you'd see

the fire that happened to me

you left rosy in the morning

warm skin in light of dawning

burnt in from lack of curtains

and fire from manhattan

burnt in with longing patterns for me

if you took out the bedsheets you'd see

let me know what happened to me

the morning to make you coffee

I waste my time

smile and you'll feel better

smile and this pain will fall

smile and it'll make you happy

smile over your coffe

you said smile and it'll make you feel better

smile and you'll feel at all

smile it'll make you feel

you left rosy in the morning

warm skin in light of dawning

burnt in from lack of curtains

and fire from manhattan

fresh flared in from brooklyn

burnt in with longing patterns for me

bathed in sunshine

afraid of dying

bathed in sunshine

I am

afraid of dying

if you woke up too early you'd see

catch me as I'm trying to leave

well framed from where you sit

the angle the light hits

reflected to my dark eyes

calling me to touch your lips

overexposed never to be seen again

bathed in sunshine

afraid of dying

you are bathed in sunshine

I am afraid of dying

you are

bathed in my mind

I am

afraid of dying

if you took out the bedsheets you'd see

catch me as I'm trying to leave

the fire that happened to me

the morning I burn your coffee and waste my time

thinking smile and I'll feel better

smile and your pain will fall

smile and be happy

and pray for the morning

and pray for this falling

smile and you'll feel at all

because I'm afraid this is to small.

A golden bird on a golden boat

I will become

I am not strong I am not proud

I have not won

pull out your eyes with your nails

pull your cheeks down

pull your neck down

your memories out

the city

she told me you can't go back to the person you were, you can't ever and I told her to hell with that I will make of myself as I want to be and she said that no you can't, it won't be real anymore, it will be too thought out, you will see through it, you can't do it purely like you were I said there isn't anything about me I haven't premeditated, that's not how I work, that's not something I can change no matter how much I want to, everything about me I have made, I have thought out and considered what was best. there is nothing I like about myself that is not intentional, it was only ever the bad things, the social fuck ups, the empty egotism the selfishness the shyness, these were the things that I did not intend, nothing I like about myself I did accidentally. I told her there are probably things you like about me that I did without premeditation or I hope there are, things you don't tell me because you're not one to wax about the things you like about me or tell me anything you like about anyone and I thought perhaps that's a thing I like about girls, they must like about me things I have not noticed, things my sweeping arm of introspection, of self searching, ever turning, has not found.

but i'm not unsympathetic!

solders of february

who was I talking to who asked me if I viewed music like photography or like film, and I said no! I view film like music. and I explained breifly my whole thing with the words viseral and intoxication and they thought it was all hella intresting, which was weird because I don't expect people to find it intresting like that. but you don't understand. I view everything like music. (it was henry, I remember) I view everything like music. becasue somehow I've found that we as a culture view music correctly, or at least the indie croud or at least the old post punk/indie punk/experimental rock crowd does. art without the pretence, that has to neccessarily sweep you away without you wanting it too, but is also depth and complex and true. like chris says, low art high craft, except this is high art, high art in low places. because anger is as important as sublime awe, but there are much much fewer statues in the met about it, sex is as important as intellectual contemplations and there deserves to masterpeices about it. And it needs to sweep you away, it's not something you breifly ponder or have as decoration, and if it compells you to treat is as such than it has failed. art should not be a part of your life such as your afternoon sandwitch or your coworkers anecdotes it should be life. and somehow people in certain spheres of music seem to recognize this, in ways no one seems to get about film or fiction or especially art. So I look at everything like music. everything should be like music. my life should be like music.

the recluse

I am never going to tire of lower case letters. Hillary asked me if I write poetry and i told her I didn't but I write an astonishing amount of songs that never get put to music, binding me to a meter that I feel is much needed, allowing me to break it only when doing something willfully irreverent becuase free verse read will not make someone uncomfortable but even a droped rhyme is offensive when sung, though I really often want to be offensive. but now I am reading a book Hillary demanded I track down and I've writen a short poem in iambic pentamiter of all things and I intend to write more.

more lyrics without music

this sprang into my head while blasting cat power in my headphones and walking to school yesterday.


well I talked to the devil and he lied to me
said that love would set me free
and pull me down to the burning sea
but instead it just purified my disease.

your face, you eyes, your lips, your skull, your bones
you cast my eyes away from me
you took my heart where no one goes
you said it wasn't all that bad
it's so bad but no one even knows
carry me half way down
cause it's the only place I want to know
no more milk white smile and crystal clothes
with crystal teeth and my eyes uncomposed
and clean floors of polished pearl, white luck, sit down, shut up
I want to feel concrete between my toes
I want the radiant solitary cry
but all I see my love just grows
keep away from me my love just grows

I saw the devil and he lied to me
said that love would set me free
and drag me down to the burning sea
but instead I find everything to be clean
instead I'm floating up and I will curse you
said devil pull me down I'd rather burn
said god please shake this love from me
this isn't what you said it'd be
it isn't what you said it'd be.

new song fragment

i actually wrote this the first time over the summer and have recomposed it several times, but this is the current version.

'shelter is not a sensation'

she said.

'at least not one you can plug

in the back of your head'

'I don't want warmth'

she said.

'I don't want food

I want to starve

to suffocate

I don't want water

I don't want sleep

I don't want sex

I don't want sex

I don't want to breath

I don't want it true'

I don't know what to do with you