eat people

to do drugs to eat people to

i wish i was dead

Synapse to synapse: the possibility's thin
I'm dressed up for free drinks and family greetings
On your wedding, your wedding, your wedding date
The figures in plastic on the wedding cake
That I took were so real

And I kept distance: the complications cloud
The postcards and blip through fiberoptics
As the girls with pigtails
Were running from little boys wearing bowties
Their parents bought them: "I'll catch you this time!"

Crashing through the parlor doors
What was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine
You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately

Synapse to synapse: the sneaky kids had attached
Beer cans to the bumper so they could drive
Up and down the main drag
People would turn to see who's making the racket
It's not the first time

When they lay down the fish will swim upstream
And I'll contest, but they won't listen
When the casualty rate's near 100%
And there isn't a pension for second best
Or for hardly moving

Crashing through the parlor doors
What was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine
You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately

You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately

if you'd be my girl

it would be so indie rock it's a shame

fuck all those girls before, i'm gonna fuck all these girls now

I'LL MAKE OUT THE CHECK WHEN I GET HOME

seriously folks though the ergs are like there for me in the sense that i can now see all my mistakes i've made. don't need a god damn manifesto to out and get some pussy yall NOT TOO HARD FOLKS not too hard at all. don't fuck around you know a girl likes you you ask her out. oh fuck i made plans this weekend OOPS BROS BF HOES THAT'S DA BREAKS FOLKS if she down she'll wait for ya otherwise fuck er. THE EARTH WON'T STOP FOR ME truth in advertising

i'm so drunk

but not drunk enough

Do you still keep my pictures in your frame?
Cause I still shut down with the sound of your name.
Do you still wanna talk to me like you used to?
Cause I could understand if you don't
I won't call unless you call me first

Do you still keep my letters in your drawer?
Cause I still have yours but I don't read them anymore
Do you still wanna kiss me like you used to
Cause I could understand if you don't

Do you still hold me close to your heart?
Cause I still need you even though we are apart
Do you still wanna hold me like you used to?
I could understand if you don't

Fuck Saturday

The sun rose, shining through the curtains and blinds. Though my eyes weren't open, I could feel the light coming through them. I slowly opened them and rolled over. Almost falling off the couch, I caught myself, waking myself up quickly. I pull my head up and look over at the bed. My girlfriend, or was she my ex-girlfriend now, I'm not sure, the argument was very confusing. But whatever relation she was to me, she lay there, in my bed, but not with her holding her close, as happened every other night. It wasn't always like this of course, we used to be a lot closer. Even yesterday started out great.

I felt a peck on my cheek.
"wake up beautiful."
"Ha ha ha," I thought to myself, pulling myself out of sleep.
"Wake up sleepyhead," she said.
"I'm up,, I'm up already," I told her, lying through my teeth.
She threw the covers off, taking away my final rung on the sleep ladder. I opened my eyes to see her get out of bed, her normal morning attire of boy shorts and some old t-shirt walking towards the bathroom. I got out of bed, put the sheets back on, and yawned again. Another late night, like the kinds I wished for when I was single. I flipped on the TV, the news on as usual, and sat down on the couch. She came out the bathroom and sat down next to me, my arm instinctively moving around her. Her long brown hair laid upon my arm, those deep brown eyes staring forward, but I know they were thinking of me. I leaned over, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and smiled, just as she did.
"God damn," I thought to myself, "Who knew stereotypes could be so nice?"
She got up after a few minutes and walked over towards the kitchen.
"What do you want for breakfast?" she yelled back to me.
"Eggs and toast, dear," I yelled back to her.
After a few more minutes watching the news, which in all honesty I would watch all day if it wasn't for her, I got up and made my own way to the kitchen. I reached to grab the coffee grounds out of the cupboard, but quickly noticing the scent of coffee already in the air, I reach for my mug and poor myself some. She was pretty great for things like this, but it's not like she was some housewife, I did stuff like this for her all the time. She finishes cooking breakfast, and sets it out on the table. We each eat our breakfast, looking across at each other and just laughing like two idiots. If I could say so to the world, I would define this as bliss. But I couldn't. I couldn't say this to the world, because it would be a lie. There is no peck on the cheek on the waking up, just the floor next to me. No arm around her, just a fist through the wall. No special breakfast in the morning, just waking up at 4 in the afternoon with empty pop cans sitting on the computer desk, the only reminder of a long night alone.

The bar oozed with sound. The band on stage pounded the air with their sounds, the haunting organ backing them up. A man sat at the bar, a wrinkled gray suit covering him, alcohol circulating through his system. His eyes were touching the dirty bar, his head so close he could see through the atoms of the old oak. One hand rested on his head, half out of his sadness, half covering his balding head. There was nothing genuinely wrong with this man, he had a wife, kids, a job. But he was missing the most crucial thing to any person, a will to live. He wasn't sure where things went wrong or how he got to where he is, but ignoring all that, he knew that as soon as the cheap beer was gone form his mug, he would cross the street and jump in the river, the night obscuring him from view, the faulty streetlamp covering for him. His took another sip, saw the clean bottom of the glass, and set it down. He left his wallet on the bar, full of money, identification, and mementos. He walked out, no one noticing, or otherwise not caring. He made his way slowly across the street, and reached the center of the road. Continuing on, now seeing the water, he slowed his pace. This was not something to be rushed. The streetlamp, the one variable he thought he had control of, flickered on. He turned his head to look up at it, and while looking away, he was struck by a car. The car sped away, the red tracks left the only trail leading away. The man lay there, cut down at the bottom of the barrel. The streetlight shone on his lifeless corpse, a red river running out of him. He had no last words, his punctured lung couldn't expel words, and his already dead brain had nothing to say. His vocal cords lay there in limbo, between not caring and no being able.

Jesus, Etc.

Jesus, don't cry
You can rely on me honey
You can combine anything you want

I'll be around
You were right about the stars
Each one is a setting sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Don't cry
You can rely on me honey
You can come by any time you want

I'll be around
You were right about the stars
Each one is a setting sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Voices whine
Skyscrapers are scraping together
Your voice is smoking
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around

Our love
Our love
Our love is all we have

Our love
Our love is all of God's money
Everyone is a burning sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Voices whine
Skyscrapers are scraping together
Your voice is smoking
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around

Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around