Goddamn this morning and its empty light.
I’ve slept in makeup for the last three nights,
and I think I read if I do it again I’ll surely die

My back is killing me, I woke up on the floor. I swear to god
someone was with me in this bed the night before.
Am I losing my mind? Am I bleeding out?
Well what’s there to lose? Nothing I wouldn’t be happier without.

And it's funny I always thought then,
I'd be immediately forgotten
at the very first missed appointment,
when my use was all used up.

You always said I’d be proven wrong,
well for once I guess I wasn’t.
But at least I can’t feel guilty
with you gone.

Nothing looks different but you’re hated here now.
I don’t think that you could change it even if you knew how.
It’s a fight enough getting up to stand
without the weight of a dry and wasted land.

And from the window I have seen the bright lights
of a thousand burning houses in the blanket of night,
with no raindrop song to temper the flame,
no siren’s call, just the heart of silent pain.

And if just once I could cry,
rid my soul of everything
from all the times I should’ve cried
but all I knew to do was sing,

I could fill these hollowed rivers
where lost children drift to sleep.
On the midnight of the border,
I shall rest my soul and weep.


Sweet Ohio run softly ‘til I end my song.
Sweet Ohio run softly for I sing not loud or long.


Our first steps left us out of breath
and brought us to our knees.
They taught us how to stand up just to fall.
And from our first words we learned
we’d be misunderstood
if we expected to be stood at all.

Father can you take these memories back?
I’ve carried them so long I thought they were my own.
The weight of years has broken down my back.
Father can you heal these broken bones?
I’ll be an open wound that never heals,
but I'd rather hurt than be unreal.
I wanna know what Dennis Hopper felt,
when he felt what Vincent Van Gogh felt,
as the knife met the ear and immortal tears ran out.

I want a hero who’s been to prison,
who knows what it means to hurt for no reason.
I want a fag for president––guilty of treason.

“And when Columbia falls what will you do?”
I will sing songs of new freedom, “Sing for whom?”
For the soul that never heard its longings sung.
For the body born to wrestle hate and passion.
For the mind that knows its prison’s size,
the outstretched arms and dazzled eyes
who saw Kennedy lit in Dallas shade,
saw his head snap back in the cavalcade,
and said, one to the other, “Well, wasn’t that some parade?”

For the sight and for the sound.
For the lost who never hope to be found.
For the seek pleasure kids who’ll never die
and the ones who will but just don’t mind.
Little fish get eaten till they learn to swim away.
Little boys get beaten till they learn to run away.
I’ll wander past my last breaths, let my journey set me free,
‘cause I’m an incurable, and nothing else behaves like me.