1. |
||||
instrumental
|
||||
2. |
a dub of onions
02:53
|
|||
life cuts holes in my ceiling,
i feel it pouring on me when i sleep.
life is the rain on my face.
i lose gravity with each step that i take.
do you float breathlessly
through your days?
when will i know if this is the right road to take?
lost on western, southbound,
away from our homes.
but life keeps moving
and i don't think i'm breathing.
remind me to breathe.
because i don't remember what it feels like
to be in control of my own fucking life.
and all i can think of
is what it felt like
all the times you made me apologize
when i was the one who was right.
|
||||
3. |
elder lane park
03:29
|
|||
am i fucked up enough to love?
or do i love things so much that it's fucked up?
it's getting to the point where i'm not sure.
you lost seven cigarettes and
the cops took the gram that i just purchased.
and i miss the way the sun feels on my skin.
i'm not sure where i lost control.
maybe the zoloft or the concerta knows,
because i can't focus. and i'm not less depressed.
and those drugs have to be doing something.
in exchange for how many i take,
in exchange for the money my parents pay.
otherwise, there's no point
i'm just a filled prescription
or a burned out joint,
and my teenage years feel more distant as they progress.
so i hang out in the room i'm stranded in,
where the sun misses you
and touching your skin.
this winter doesn't get better,
it gets bearable and disappears.
there's no reason to be leaving,
because i believe there's nothing better anywhere.
|
||||
4. |
||||
all i need is something to do in my wasted youth.
a new bottle of pills, a new prescription to fill.
expiration dates have always intrigued me,
how do they do that math?
how do they condense all that
into one simple date on the back?
we're not creative, why can't we just let that go?
and let ourselves be parking lots for all the hatred we hold.
there wouldn't be enough levels,
there wouldn't be enough free land.
downtown is less than five miles wide and that's
too small to avoid who i don't want to see in my
spare time.
hang up the phone, don't call me back.
i won't tell a soul of the sincerity you clearly lack.
you keep finding words in the cracks of conversations.
what you hear seems to be more of a choice
than a fact.
we're not creative, why can't we just let that go?
and let ourselves be parking lots for all the hatred we hold.
there wouldn't be enough levels,
there wouldn't be enough free land.
downtown is less than five miles wide and that's
too small to avoid who i don't want to see in my spare
time.
|
||||
5. |
||||
tell me you know how to love me,
and then leave like nobody ever could.
you make me feel ways that nobody ever could,
make me feel sick on the inside.
broke on the inside.
reach your hands into my pockets.
tell me how much you miss these shaking legs.
tell me everything about how you know better this time,
and i'll think to myself, how i should've known better by now.
you make me feel ways that nobody ever could,
make me feel sick on the inside, i'm choking
and spitting up bones.
if there was ever a way to tell you
how much i regret this,
it would taste like a watermelon.
or it would taste like a thousand tiny pins.
you make my throat fill with one thousand tiny pins.
|
||||
6. |
sleep
04:06
|
|||
i've been driving off cliffs in my dreams
and staying to the lanes by day.
i'm driving down one-ways
and running stoplights
but i'm okay.
i'm driving drunkenly
self-medicated, masking pain behind ounces.
till all memories are obliterated
i'm fine
i'm fine
i'm fine.
i guess i'll just fall asleep to the sound of my own breathing again.
to think myself to sleep is not where i'd like to be,
but it's where i am.
it's the repetitiveness.
i'm a smoke stack.
i'm a pot boiling over,
and i'm going to explode.
i'm a breaking back,
i'm falling apart,
wishing i was either far or close, or neither.
i guess i'll just fall asleep to the sound of my own breathing again.
to think myself to sleep is not where i'd like to be but it's where i am.
i'm a smoke stack, i'm a steel mill shutting down,
i'm a river, poisoned by everything i swallow.
i'm too close to fall, too high to see the road end.
i'm a product of full bucket
promises left empty in the end.
|
||||
7. |
||||
you were a ruined summer.
i always wished that i was a river,
flowing gently from one side to another.
existing easily between the grooves
of old records.
i was a cause for you to fight for,
i was a system for you to dismantle.
i was the breaking bonds of friendships
cultivated in empty handles.
|
||||
8. |
whereabouts
03:54
|
|||
sometimes i sleep between pieces of paper,
so broken down, i speak and exhale vapor.
i am a mess of smoke,
i am blackened lungs,
i am late nights, avoiding stress,
i am getting blackout drunk.
i stared out the window
through the windshield wipers,
and i saw gray.
i saw the sun that set on skylines,
it felt so far away.
i wasn't looking out, i wasn't feeling good.
i was everything i should not have been,
and my anxiety set in.
we're just searching for something profound.
too fucked up to drive, we still get around.
i self reflect in glassy eyes and take
photographs to remember these nights.
we're just searching for something profound.
too fucked up to drive, we still get around.
we meet in parking lots, feeling alone.
i feel uncomfortable when i'm at home.
so let's circle around the block again,
there are three minutes left in this period.
and i want to make the best of the time that i get.
we're just searching for something profound,
too fucked up to drive, we still get around.
i self-reflect in glassy eyes and take
photographs to remember these nights.
|
Streaming and Download help
If you like cipinko, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp