1. |
Shaker Heights
02:16
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there's this particular tape to play dead sounds drinking at the lip of the ocean and a way she brushed your fingers that could make you walk home up the hudson. there's a reason that i'm having the dream i'm spitting out all my teeth into the bathroom sink again. these cassettes are all made of rust and you were watching your parents' bones turn to dust or would you rather be hurt than right? this could the second-to-last time i'm going back to shaker heights. woo. back in my town these cliffs are hanging over the river. and i'll lie on this couch while my friends jump from palisades in miniature. you can find the type to keep a tea pot without a spout. hey if you like me i'll just stay inside and sigh. cleveland shines with medieval light and this is the way i can spit when it gets blown out
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2. |
Lazy
03:13
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a strangely high voice for a man, loyalty card at a coffee stand, are all that i have had, since the dull sky stage i played the weeping lamb. of some private-school freya or christ. the psychic blessed the merger from within midwestern ice. drips from the tv, business in skokie, accounts of pain and joy for the rest of your life. all dry eyes, all hand shakes. picture me in an ice cream cake. i'll be taking top gun of the nightstand this morning; it's okay. lazy tutor, throne of pewter, let's white out the future. survived this far just by being a jerk and cataloging every stain on every shirt. hound and and the mast, flock and the past, i'll be driving down to work upon this white water raft. i missed the rumble, ms. mercutio, but these years start telescoping every time you say hello. love leaves all cool. it slips off bar stools. you're crazy if you think i'd miss a chance to be cruel.
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3. |
Omaha
02:21
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i got a letter that he sent because talking's too hard and it mostly gave advice on hanging picture frames. it said i was peeling petals off of my old metrocards when you went looking for love at a crusher's game. this fabric's at its best when it rips, and the time i waited for you at your door step. you said you dreamt i hot-glued bugles to your finger tips. i said i've never been stood up by someone sleeping before. and if i close my eyes i could still be in omaha. yeah if i'm still hanging around in 110 days. my neighbors house has a devil horn door, and a light on for you. somewhere in sandusky there's someone who can make sense of a kind of nod of head and perfect inning streak and you know that i come running every time that you mix tense and i've been having selfish thoughts about the scars on your cheeks. cos you said with friends like these who needs friends? he hasn't figured out if you were joking yet. but if you ask me again, i can tell you it depends on a choke i like you the way you like smoking cigarettes.
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4. |
Don't Dig Yourself Out
04:06
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she crosses her legs, uncrossed her legs. lamp light on her skin carefully plays orange and pink waiting there rise to the surface to take last breaths. middle-aged cars browned by small dying stars drift like dancers from the road to the yard. tinsel hung on cognac breath. o we don't have to talk about death. the singer cries the band died in the power surge at the bowling alley. so he walks home by himself. he's a gold lame tomcat oh man i won't be that. don't dig yourself out without coming down for me. cos this hole ain't a home without you and the sky's getting too small for me to see. don't dig yourself out without coming down for me. cos i think i need one more conversation before i can sleep. blueberry eyes mandate all drinks with lime and she said i wanna puke when your poetry rhymes. the lake and the towels are dirty, poison oak at 5:30 shines like a last dime. drinking leftover cups from the age up above playing bach to a teenbeat and eating hotdogs. the makeout sessions and the princess provisions. i'm so turned on by the unforgiven.
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