Please don’t put your trust in me Even promises to myself are broken consistently. ‘Cause it’s Man vs. Nature and Nature always wins So I throw away recycle bins out of spite We’re all creatures of habit Crying for stability from our habitats But as long as the forest tumbles down Then I won’t expect much more from myself. I feel bad for not feeling bad Tragedy is defined by what I cease to have And I can’t weep and I can’t lose any sleep I count losses, you count sheep before bed We’re all creatures of habit Crying for stability from our habitats But as long as the forest tumbles down Then I won’t expect much more from myself. Where’s the home I thought I knew? These roots have been so remiss. Once a lush, green forest, now a Necropolis Someone should have shut me up before I screamed “Why does this happen to me?”

I am sincere when I say “Thanks for all your gifts today” And for the blessings for a future and a faith that stay secure. With all this food on my plate and money in my account I know what it means to graduate and how it feels to never run out Of people to thank, of superiors to please Of smiles to fake, parts of myself to lease. I’ve got hundreds of shareholders invested in me But when did I lose control of my own company? * * * I can’t believe it’s already gone, seems like just yesterday I was a lonely and petrified kid. Oh wait—it was! My life’s a two-hour delay I spend reflecting on all the things I never did. Bicycles and fruitless schedules, I know exactly when to shift into my optimal gear. But I’m sliding fast! I could really use a brake (break) from deceiving everyone I hold dear. * * * Misconceptions, murky self-perceptions, this river is what you want it to be. Pent-up angst, a people giving thanks for provision and plans already set. “Son, as it is, you owe the Big Man a great deal of debt.” Undeserved gifts and unwelcome shifts, I shouldn’t have tucked away all my sins. ‘Cause when Santa Claus came, he had no beef with my name, but now I need all that coal to stay afloat. “Dad, as it is, I have no fuel left to power this boat.”

It’s not much, but if I could, I’d ask God to shake the ground under the places I stood so regrettably still. It’s not much, but I’d write a little bit of a song for you every night So that I wouldn't look the fool when I had nothing to give you on the night you left for school. It’s not much, but I’d entrust you with every last thing I've been too scared to discuss with anyone else. It’s not much, but I’d interlock our fingers before you succumb to the hands of the clock. You’re waking up too soon. Too soon for Frosted Flakes And I’m not charming, I just got lucky by mistake. A sweet swirl of fate And you’re more than good: you’re Kate. It’s too much for me to disguise my frightened captivation with the glitter on your eyes. You’re slightly pale, but I’m the ghost. It’s too much, so I implore the mosquitoes to resign or prepare for war. We’re not going inside. It does me no good to say so, but I know that I’m a bore. You deserve someone less concerned with old TV and dirty floors. Please excuse all my silence, I need you to think that I am fine. So for now just tell me about your life and I’ll pretend like it’s mine.

I spend all my time looking at maps Of places I’ll never see and yet I hope to amass Some sort of knowledge about what it is I can’t have. I’ll spend a couple hours cooking a meal And eat it all in one short minute and feel Like nothing is ever worth the time. We’ll plan our lives away for preparation’s sake And nothing will ever be surprise. The world will never disappoint you when you look Ahead through someone else’s eyes. I’ve mastered the art and achieved the feat Of preparing a face to meet the faces I’ll meet Such that I can’t indulge in low self-esteem. I can’t maintain the strength to spend My whole life just living for the weekend It’s been 18 years and I’d like to be more than all right. I’m neither poor nor rich nor allowed to be malcontent Someone’s always worse off than me. But what’s a kid to do when he can’t Be sad or happy? How do you measure up without a standard? How do you reason when the universe is absurd? How do you know that it’s more than conditioned feeling? How do you justify talking to the ceiling? Why didn’t anybody tell me That by this time everyone else has chosen camps unconditionally? And there’s no going back, because in this state You’re either a bigot or a filthy apostate.

This may come as a shock to some of my friends But I’m not good at making the tough decisions. Like I’m a woman whipsawed by two handsome suitors, you’ll tell me “Listen to your heart.” But like a racetrack run by crooked men, it was all rigged from the start. So I pump promises through a nozzle ‘til I’ve dried up all my reserves With perfunctory nods of the head and suppression of the nerves. So if the fruit of the Spirit only grows in the Holy Land Then why can I buy the very same from the vender at the roadside stand? And I still have no idea which way my seed will die out. Eaten up by the birds, choked by the thorns Did it ever really sprout? Oh well. I used to dance around the house to “Yellow Submarine” Now I scream at the piano when no one’s listening. I used to know there was someone who could hear my thoughts Now I believe that’s all anyone really wants. So was desire the father of that train of thought? And am I the bastard son, born of society’s taunts? You’ll blame it on pride or university But just know the fault rests solely on me. I’ve never led a single soul to the Lord Jesus Christ But I’ve been run off the road plenty of times. I want to drop everything and drive to you I’ll take the interstate—no the back roads—no the downtown avenues. And I’m sick of all the light and dark metaphors The clean and the dirty, the dead and alive, the rich and the poor. But for old time’s sake, I’ll indulge in one more: Heal these festering sores. And it will only be a few months now ‘til I disappoint Everyone who’s ever known me since I was a boy. “See, I thought you were a good kid, well I guess I was wrong. Your train derailed and I hope you don’t mean a word of this song.” But think of all the parties when I return And think of all the lessons you’ll think I’ll have learned. But I swear I won’t be prodigal or profligate No, I’ll earn and save and I’ll live the same with the trust of one less friend.

Standing outside, cold and warm fronts collide, and I’m bored But the northbound Metra blows by and won’t let me on board So I wander and wonder whether it would please the Lord To spend subsidized government loans on a real keyboard But on we go I’m living more in my head than in the concrete Making friends before talking, making steps before walking on sleet But on we go Give me something to do or a new window through which to look for relief Wish list of new places, but listlessness pins me without belief Stick a playing card in my bicycle spokes and it makes a motor sound Set the handles too high and the bar too low and I never leave the ground There are unresolved tensions and vague apprehensions of failed romances And life’s not a journey, it’s a series of rehearsals and performances And it’s all I can to reconcile my alter ego with the flow Condemned to ever weigh and waver to and fro on the merits of Fort Wayne and Chicago On we go But ennui stays

I asked for the same as Solomon But my wisdom teeth still haven’t grown in. And there’s a throbbing in my temples The ones I built to extol false feelings of control. So don’t call me a free thinker No, my thoughts have cost me dearly. Like Paul, I’ve got a thorn in my side But when it won’t come out, it’s like I never even tried. And things only gets worse with age Paralyzing fear to act, ‘cause I’ll be booed off stage. So don’t call me a healthy young man or even good company When I can’t even say: I’d like to live, I’d like to breathe I’d like to drink fresh water, leave salty eyes with the Dead Sea. I’d like to frown when I disagree But I’d like to stay your friend from now until eternity. I’d like to tear my finest clothes Blow my infectious past out through the holes in my nose. I’ll buy new shirts, rip off the tags I won’t return anything, and I’ve already packed my bags. I’m a convict; I’m a convert. I’m a convert on the run.

I catch a glimpse of you from across the street And I see you sneeze, and I wonder if we Have anything in common Besides the common cold I could call you lovely And you could call me back And we could talk for hours about summer lakes and kayaks So float on without me For a couple weeks But be sure to keep the wind off your cheeks You’re the Sears Tower and I’m the tourist trapped On the first floor And you’re the architect and I’m the archetype Of the shy little kid on the first day of class. I could call you lovely And you could call me kid And we’d make a scene no matter what we did So forget your manners Chew with your mouth open And don’t bother to knock, I’ve always wanted you to come in I’ll take your hand and you take your seat, but past that I don’t care to meet Any expectations about reciprocity Just tell me every person, place, or sing a dirge to hotel pleasantries As hesitant air glances turn to unabated stares Into the caverns of your eyes, and we won’t have to revise Any phrasings or syntax, we could just relax In the comfort of assurance and cool air If you only knew that I care I want to love Do you feel it? (I feel it too)

Call me Caspar Milquetoast; I’ll have a coffee—dark roast Because I’m tired of limp resolve But I’ll keep off your grass, ‘cause there’s a sign that asks I don’t touch the dew Do nothing I’m not told Make a bet and I’ll fold But the man on television Says “Call now, and get two for the price of one.” I buy ‘cause I need it to survive After all, I was born at $19.95 I’m done From now on, I do what I want.

When peace like a river attendeth my way When sorrows like sea billows roll Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.” It is well (It is well) With my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with my soul *** Oh, I always liked a good melody One that echoes like an old broken bell But I sing at the expense of the truth You see, my soul hasn’t been doing too well But I’m bringing the optimist back Every dinosaur and astronaut book I’ll live for trips to the zoo and the chance to tell you That I want back the old outlook So whatever matter my lot, I’ll try to keep a good attitude And whatever I said, just know that I’ll always love you See, I’m standing up the devil I know For a blind date with the devil I don’t Know a thing about life or basic biology But once I tried to thread my own history Like a bird in the sky, and I cut my own airflow ‘Cause aren’t we all more precious than sparrows? And Dad, you’re my hero And Mom, you’re my definition of love

So I’m finally moving on Marks and minds have been set On curbing my daily inspection to no more than 16 regrets 19 years and a VHS Tape my guts to my soul So they won’t spill or spin out of remote control And maybe I’m wasting my youth Safe and sober and showered With postcards and prescribed viewpoints as to how to best count the hours I still just smile at girls I like For once it’s easy to be genuine But maybe I should start pulling pigtails or pushing in the lunch line And I still listen to Titus On the way home from reading from Philemon An old testament to a perfectly balanced confusion Still the unwilling scientist Social milieux and observations But maybe I should start talking to people again So I’m finally out I’m finally sailing I’m fine, I really think I’m fine At last And the last thing I would ever do is lie to you. Like a minivan it hit me that hardly anything ever hits me dead on It’s a process, the way it’s processed takes time before you get to the horizon If everyone is in on it, I’d have to be in on it too So now I’m just hoping for something that looks vaguely like hope to break through. And the last thing I would ever do is lie to you.