1. |
Forest Sounds
03:31
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The forest is hungry.
The wolves all sing loudly at the moon,
As the fireflies light the feast.
My heart feels so empty,
As the moonlight shines down on me tonight.
I howl like the beasts.
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
(When we don't speak.)
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
The ancient oaks stand tall.
In autumn their leaves fall, but for now,
The canopy holds strong.
This pond home to new life,
But most of it dies in the night,
Before the morning sun shines.
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
(When we don't speak.)
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
(When we don't speak.)
Is it okay that I miss you when we don't speak?
Is it okay that I miss you? Because I do.
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2. |
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You know how much I love when it rains,
When the world looks so dark and so beautifully strange.
I must say that I love the way,
That you pick all the best rainy day songs to play.
Lift up your voice and please sing this to me.
It's the fire in your heart that by which I can see,
And I feel so blind every time that you leave,
And I hate when I can't see a thing.
I've been a little afraid,
To walk down the path that was recently laid.
Living is getting to me,
So promise me, promise me, you'll never leave.
Lift up your voice and please sing this to me.
It's the fire in your heart that by which I can see,
And I feel so blind every time that you leave,
And I hate when I can't see a thing.
I know how you hate the effects of caffeine,
When you drink it too late and you can't fall asleep.
It's just like this mug filled with coffee and cream:
It feels less like a liquid and more like a dream,
And I know how we both love to dream.
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3. |
Plaster Ceilings
04:52
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I hear the sound of distant rain,
Or maybe an old vinyl record was left on and it keeps on playing.
The needle has dropped off.
The record keeps spinning. The speaker spits crackles and pops.
And I'm left alone in this room to turn the thing off.
Oh no, I thought everything fell in its place just last year.
Oh no, I was eager to rest in this space with you here.
Oh no, oh no.
What have we broken? I don't think we ever could know.
The stripes on my socks match the lines in my art.
The scars on the abdomen rhyme with the hurt in my heart.
I open the curtain to let in the evening's last light.
The creaks of the floorboards above me, they don't sound quite right.
I think there's a ghost here that haunts this apartment tonight.
Oh no, I thought everything fell in its place just last year.
Oh no, I was eager to rest in this space with you here.
Oh no, oh no.
What have we broken? I don't think we ever could know.
I live under plaster ceilings,
And I sit heavy, repress these feelings,
'Cause I feel sad when I remember,
The life we had just last September.
I live under plaster ceilings,
And I sit heavy, repress these feelings,
'Cause I feel sad when I remember,
The life we had just last September.
Oh no, I thought everything fell in its place just last year.
Oh no, I was eager to rest in this space with you here.
Oh no, oh no.
What have we broken? I don't think we ever could know.
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4. |
The Way Back Up
01:37
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5. |
Menagerie of Broken Toys
00:54
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6. |
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Mankind's built so many machines,
To transport and toil while we dream.
As long as we don't look to see what's behind us,
It's progress, or so it would seem.
So one of us should take control,
Before we spin off of the road.
I've got this strange feeling. Let go of the wheel.
I'd like to see something explode.
Self-destruction is sort of an art form.
It's something that I learned from you.
So coax me into something I'd rather not do.
I made this godawful switch,
And steered this thing into a ditch.
I squandered my wishes on -- I don't remember.
I wish I had just one more wish.
Now I'm wishing for wishes in vain,
And I can't wish away all the pain,
The scrapes and the bruises, the scabs on these knuckles,
No, these scars are doomed to remain.
Self-destruction is sort of an art form.
It's something that I learned from you.
So coax me into something I'd rather not do.
I sometimes dream I'm a fish,
Swimming around in this clear glass dish,
And I've got no direction, got no place to hide,
So I just swim in circles like this.
I guess now I've got to come clean:
None of the stuff I just said was a dream.
See, I make up these stories all soaked in self-pity,
And I mope and I mumble and seethe.
Self-destruction is sort of an art form.
It's something that I learned from you.
And if we're being honest, it's kind of a drag,
But it's not like I've got something better to do.
So whisper into my ear something sweet and untrue.
And coax me into something I'd rather not do.
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7. |
Coughing Blood
01:39
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I need to get out of my head,
Because an ancient evil slumbers,
And it sleeps with one eye open in the depths.
Its tentacles will soon rise up to crush these tiny ships.
It's taken everything I have to not just drown here,
In this ocean of despair that I sip from.
The world is spinning on and on. The galaxy is twirling.
These bones grow older every single day.
I can't escape the hell that is this fleshy, fragile shell,
That I'll persist inside of 'til the day I die.
Because everything alive, it only lives until it dies,
And then it vanishes into the stream of time,
And looks the universe right in the eye.
Do do do
Do do do
Do do do do doodoo do
Do do do do doodoo do
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8. |
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A Sunken Ship Irony Minneapolis, Minnesota
Like an old ghost ship rising from cursed waters, A Sunken Ship Irony emerges once again. We are soaked, old, and bruised, but we're still alive (if you could call this living).
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