Since Yesterday (Lyrics)

I brush my hand
on your sleeping shoulder.
Blankets move
and Love awakes.
Slow motion takes over
and it's like a
perfect movie moment.
But short-term memories
are never quite
what they used to be.
You're not really here.
You're in another state.
A thousand miles away
probably chasing out
some cash.
I miss you since yesterday.

Light Disorders (Lyrics)

Creeping over the edge
each morning with the sunlight.
Seeping into every crack
never failing to light your day.
It's a thirst that's never quenched
so I keep my drinking all the while.
When I think it's gone away...

A slap in the face
from a silver tray.
It takes hold and runs.
Heartbeat.
Breathe.
Spin, spin, spin and run.

Falling out of bed
I keep thinking this ends today.
Can't finish what you start
when the devil's always in the way.
The logic's not around
during bouts of sweat and chills.
Right before I leave...

A slap in the face
from a silver tray.
It takes hold and runs.
Heartbeat.
Breathe.
Spin, spin, spin and run.

I'm Not Playing This Game (Lyrics)

Decisions are in.

Anxiety's up.

A heartbeat's for fools.

I'm not making excuses

for talk I don't own.

Believe anyone.

Holding the knives,

the gossip queen,

drama king,

friends when time was new,

they have your vision.

Lend an ear?

No, given away.

Paid off for lies.

Traded in poor faith.

I'm not making excuses

for talk I don't own.

Don't talk to me.

Go to your sources,

your trusted bros.

They know me

better than you.

A full 5 months,

3 dog years, right?

Yeah, they know

the things I really mean,

that I have no

good intentions.

Spiteful bitch.

Manipulative.

I'm filling the machine.

Coating candies

with sweet lies.

I'm not making excuses

for talk I don't own.

I don't care what they say,

but I'm cut

by how easily

you believe.

Paranoia's slick.

Your friends will tell you:

Watch out for girls,

especially your own,

whoever she is.

I'm not making excuses

for talk I don't own.

Tired of prying,

at what someone else's said.

You're mad but

I'm not making excuses

for talk I don't own.

Running Out the Lines (Poem)

I think I'm sick of this corporate old,
maybe I've gotta stop doing what I'm told.
Predictability is on the rise
so I got my hands on some pesticide,
ready to take things into my own hands.
Gonna make a scene burning these suit pants.

I'm dying my hair and painting my nails.
I'm changing my clothes and lifting these pails.
About to give up on making my rent,
give up my dog, look into buying a tent.
Freedom's not a game you play by someone else's rules.
You can shake your head while calling me the fool.

Nervous Girl (Poem)

My embarrassment drops
to the pavement,
explodes in every new direction.
The pieces catch
in the early morning sun.
They'll stay there
on the street all day long.
My heart quickens,
stomach churns,
and dread wells up inside of me.
It seeps out my nose
mouth and eyes,
the tips of my fingers.
My every movement betrays.

This is the Day I Die (I Work For Corporate America) (Poem)

Silence speaks my name,
calls out for my surrender.
Life slips between these cracks.
Skies are black and blue,
bruised by storm clouds
who've been rallied by the wind.
This world swallowed the sun.
Here is my end of days,
where this secret burns
inside my darkened heart.
It's brightness is not what's good,
the mark of all that's wrong.
Will I save the world this way?
Walking the pavement
of downtown a.m.
Where every face is blank,
every life, somewhere else.
I slip between them like a ghost,
they don't even notice.
Faces float through the streets
on bodies that I can't see.
I'm in a place between worlds,
a self-induced trance?
It's an overwhelming sadness
that I can't explain.
No fear has found me yet,
no wrath has claimed my heart.
This secret burns the brightest
outside square office buildings.
Pavement opens up below
and pulls my ankles down.
I reach for help, the faces pass.
A dirty beard.
Broken nails.
The homeless look for me.
I'm not pulled out,
I keep falling down.
"Those who lose their way can't stay"
His face burns into the black
and we float towards another day,
another form of incomplete.
My world was never real.
It was never fake.
Real to me but no one else,
fake to them but not myself.
Burning brightness in the void,
the secret of love unfolds,
its fury flowing through me.
My world's consumed by day-lit night.
I work for Corporate America.
I'm already dead.