1. |
Habits
04:27
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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?”
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2. |
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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.”
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3. |
Frosted Flakes
03:47
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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.
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4. |
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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.
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5. |
Epistle
06:23
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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.
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6. |
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7. |
On We Go, Ennui Stays
04:30
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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
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8. |
Convert on the Run
04:00
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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.
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9. |
Another Silly Wish Song
04:20
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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)
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10. |
Caspar Milquetoast
03:51
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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.
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11. |
It is Well with My Soul
04:04
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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
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12. |
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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.
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Will Davis Burlington, Vermont
From the bathtub to the bathtub I have uttered stuff and nonsense.
Songs from the Midwest.
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