1. |
Ballad of Electric Wire
03:27
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find treasure in the west,
on a golden coast your crimson head,
the desert’s edge where you build your home.
where the orange groves asleep,
across the world the highways bleed,
to that desert’s edge where you built you home.
the bird falls from the nest,
catches the wind and leaves the west,
the desert’s edge where you leave your home.
at night across the plains,
to an eastern coast, the empire state,
far from the desert’s edge where you leave your home.
and now you stretch your voice across,
electric wire and snow caps bars,
the desert’s edge you can still hear you home.
you can hear it in the sand,
if you put your ears to that red land,
that desert’s edge where you left your home.
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2. |
A Fuse To Your Lips
04:07
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for the crimson misses under silver maple sits,
wonder matchbooks cleanly ripped,
“who lit a fuse to your lips?”
so leave your marks where you think i’d need them most,
and tremble like you’ve taken a liking to this ghost.
masked in molded plastic keep a smile carefully hid,
a wavering voice from teenage lips,
“i think we are the last ones left.”
in this criminal’s manor, its electric candles lit,
lift the wounded to their drinks,
and watch four-legged creatures swing.
illuminant and balanced with,
the fatal face as manuscript
a visionary placed into each socket,
stuffed with cork and glue.
my drawn pupils inked in place,
in peppered sight and speckled haze,
so hungry but without a trace of hunters.
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3. |
Kerosene
03:17
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of all the girls you’ve kissed before me,
have they any clue at all,
they’re the subject of the songs you sing,
and the paintings on your wall?
do they know how it feels,
how it feels to be the one?
but i don’t,
no i don’t think their memories are gone.
of all these trees you’ve seen before me,
oh they seem so brightly lit,
as you walk atop their fallen leaves,
i bet they’ve never seen you so big.
and you’ll wear all your stripes,
and i wear my locket.
and i hope you are mine,
still i’ll never forget,
that your house is filled with ghosts of a shipwreck.
they swam to the surface their bodies no different.
found the dust in your corners,
the warmth in your close doors,
in a trunk of old papers, a quilt by four grandmas.
burn your kerosene,
please stay up wait for me,
as you burn your kerosene,
please stay up late for me,
because i’ll be the last to come home.
i will be the late one to your arms.
yes i’ll be the last to come home.
i will be the late one to your arms.
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4. |
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from an eggshell grave for better days,
i’ve seen them written on the wall.
and they prophecized that your ocean eyes,
will pour water free of salt.
under an orphaned moon the thirsty tongues are few,
but you refuse to flee the sky.
and you, you the desert’s edge.
you, the common sense.
let your crimson ankle rest.
the freckled spell to an ivory edge.
the hairline crack has gone spiderweb,
to eclipse the pin prick sounds within,
and leaks the virgin oxygen,
to silver linen lungs.
to liberate the sun burned face,
i would saturate and stand,
for the sun’s to take this crater space,
from it’s captive resident.
oh fall still this peak, a capped misery,
i am a mountain free of gold.
so scrape and mistreat.
scream and repeat, “where is my soul?”
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5. |
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scrape back the soil’s top and blink the beckoned blind,
and plow down the broken homes to the california line.
watch the suspects sail the tide pool dry.
because inside the still-life’s paws,
stream down a shattered stance and you can,
keep quiet, call me failed,
but just don’t paint it black.
we don’t want a funeral on our hands.
florence, to find you among the wailing.
oh florence will i find you married to the dawn?
bail out! the bottom’s bored, your face painted stark white.
and don’t call this wreckage home if you don’t believe in why,
we started walking down this line.
besides the meaning is lost, the chords without the dance.
and i saw who is staying, calling quits,
when you’re forced to show your hand.
but i’ve got all the glory i can stand.
so take back the tongues and pull the black veil off the clouds.
there’s no grass beneath my feet as the knowing highway howls,
of my friends back there in the ground.
florence, to find you among the wailing.
oh florence will i find you married to the dawn?
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6. |
Boneless Ragdoll
03:36
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what goes through these trees like arteries?
can you tell me how the needle makes them clean?
it doesn’t hurt when i fall,
because i’m a boneless ragdoll,
and by the prophets and the stars i’ve been marked.
i cried a stream of the clear vaccine.
what’s good for you is good for me.
down by the river where they lay,
two dead sisters start to decay.
and it’s in their memories that i am made.
i’m not done for per se, just tainted in a way.
such is the city and the song for me.
i cried a stream of the clear vaccine.
what’s good for you is good for me.
love me now or love me not.
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7. |
Royal Oak Kids
03:27
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who’d you come with miss paper thin?
you royal oak kid.
and you, you dance. yeah you spin.
you’re blowing smoke into some royal oak kid.
but i’d still love you when the lights are lit.
and i’d still want to be the one you’re with.
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8. |
Crooked Knot Blues
02:20
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you’re just a kid i’ll unravel you.
a crooked knot but your hair looks cute.
let’s take this out if you’ve got the time,
well i think i may have just caught half your eye.
but you’re wearing that dress like you’ve got something to hide.
well that’s alright,
because i’ve got all night to find.
pass me around and i’m getting kicked.
a country cough in a city sick.
i’m walking home but my feet agree,
yeah they’d like it more if you walked with me,
but you spin that bottle and you walk the other way.
well i know you just like visiting,
but how about tonight you stay?
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9. |
Acorn in An Hourglass
03:29
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three circles on an iron course to set us free.
so line them up and lock the door if you please,
because no one leaves on a winter’s day.
yeah they don’t grieve for dead snowflakes,
and you’re the only shining face i see.
though my walls hold their canvased frames,
that paint is long dry.
and my song hold their faded names much too high.
but i burned my boats and i left the sea,
and i found my home far from the east,
in the desert’s only tree.
where i found an acorn in an hourglass,
made love to each grain of sand.
and now i’ve giving my childhood to the seed,
to see virgin roots grow from traveled feet still sprout.
yeah they still sprout.
so let your legs grow tangled on until they’re down deep,
where drops of rain start crawling up between the leaves.
then we’re endless our feet in clay,
so spin the bottle and forget the days,
we’ll hide like run-aways for years.
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10. |
Darlin
04:22
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tears are running down my fingertips.
they’re dripping down the folds of my dress,
while gorgeous girls smoke cigarettes,
and dance with pretty silhouettes.
my ticket’s torn, i might as well go in.
something drew me out into that night.
i didn’t love you then, but i thought i might.
still everywhere it seems,
there was once the girl of your dreams.
i find it hard to believe that you’d want me.
now we’ve all had our dates with drunken love.
a revenge upon a breakup four days done.
i tell myself i’m not that kind of girl.
i’m just living in that kind of world.
i want to stay with you more than one night.
boy, oh my darlin’
where have you been?
will you ever go back again?
boy, oh my darlin’
where have you been?
say you’ll never go back again.
now it’s on my cheek that your face rests,
and i still love to wake up in your bed.
it’s not what they call passing phase,
to kiss to touch then to erase.
as long as you don’t wander i shall stay.
boy, oh my darlin’
where have you been?
will you ever go back again?
boy, oh my darlin’
where have you been?
say you’ll never go back again.
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11. |
The Ones That Work
05:40
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we’re broken but we’ve seen the ones that work.
we’ve taken back the words and wasted way the world.
my riverbed of sink-stones lead me down.
and what’s that false teeth child matter now?
we’ve spoken of the upper canopy,
our necks ever outstretched to the out of reach.
when all i need lies sleeping on the ground.
and what’s that false teeth child matter now?
we were closest in the words we didn’t say,
emotionless the robots turn and sway.
but everyday it seems i am born anew,
just naked, nameless and chasing after you.
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12. |
B-Side Betters
02:47
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haven’t seen you in so long,
that i forgot what it is like when you stumble home drunk,
just looking for comfort, not a friend.
but that stupid boy holds too tight to your bleeding heart.
haven’t touched in so long,
the constellations of snake bites on your arms.
but i took all poison that we poured,
and left rainbow trails of clothes between our doors.
the pilot lights are keeping,
keeping me alive.
so tell me what you find,
and break some bread and feed it to our mice.
haven’t seen you in my songs,
these last couple months as new ones came along.
but i’m still much too young to write the end.
and you’re character has grown too close to my pen.
the pilot lights are keeping,
keeping us alive.
so tell me what you find,
and break some bread and feed it to our mice.
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13. |
Those Words
04:45
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he is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone.
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14. |
Sky and Space
04:13
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rattle monster! push out your serpent’s tongue,
and slice a little friend of white coat to the grave skull,
and you’ll learn to love the sky.
you’ll learn love the sky.
she’ll teach you how to die a little more.
indulge each sugar pill soaked in printer’s ink,
and welcome each new solider through my teeth.
you’ll learn to love the sky,
yeah you’ll learn to love the sky,
bleeding but they’re keeping me alive.
grow the blackened pearl malignant ivy.
snap the aging oak to a squealing seed.
you’ll learn to love the sky.
you’ll learn to love the sky.
on the tray and leaving with the knife.
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15. |
Star-Eyed Homes
03:23
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when i find a lover he might have your name.
his eyes may be the color, the color yours do take.
these things don’t have to change.
we each read like favorite books.
though these new creatures may sound strange,
still we’ll sing with them in the woods,
because we should.
and when it finally snows for us,
these songs will stick to eyelashes.
these words shall glow from star-eyed homes.
and i hold five fingers not my own.
and we’ll pretend just like we always did,
with costumes fit for gypsy kids.
with arms so long our hands are hidden.
we’re so small that nothing fits.
you may just have the voice he does,
and sing with strings like he would do.
and soon you’d find my secret was,
this love was always you.
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16. |
Learning How to Swim
03:41
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we’ll meet there past the storm,
in evening tone with your eyes all washed ashore.
like the first to see shiny things in crystal skin,
just learning how to swim,
to their new homes,
holding ropes the color of the sky,
less dependent on the light.
and take that breath to their lungs,
like it’s the only one,
keep them clasped and closed and lined.
perched atop the crest’s white break,
surging through the shallows.
searching in the coastline’s haze,
for something solid through your breath.
sweeping in the siren’s song,
laid so gently in my ear.
life on the inside of your arms,
has left me feeling real.
feeling real.
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17. |
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with you the waters came,
seeped the cracked mud veins,
our scraped skin still stinging from the salt,
this daughter's song, once bleary cries,
now starts to crystallize,
to wake rosetta, in my arms
so undress the afternoon,
of forgotten airplane blues,
and just choose. stay here for a while.
and you, you the desert's edge,
under the border fence,
with one foot in the west,
still one foot in the west,
just foot in the west.
the kettle boiled to it's copper shell.
a head of steam through the duracel.
to entreat the beauty found within,
and breathe its perfumed offering,
to shiver in the sun.
from those pastel days,
some plans displayed,
and splayed out a pair of reaching hands.
as fortune hesitates,
then takes its place outside among the randomness.
oh follow the stream,
and if what's to come's a dream, then
i'll see a mountain full of gold.
so swing in the breeze,
and sing to me,"when i left home,
when i left home, when i left home.”
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