Five hundred dollars For a pawn shop revolver And a feeling I can't quite place You say I'm yours So I propose this great divorce From the bones beneath my face It's not like I missed out on a drinking problem It's quite alright feeling comfy at rock bottom (Chorus?) So I welcome your ghost To haunt my lonely bed It just reminds me that you're dead Your tears were cold and wet On the back of my neck But I'll alienate you with empty words I've been searching for Jesus But He appears when He pleases And death is the last stone unturned You acted like Tornado sirens made you nervous It felt so fine Like I was strong stalwart with purpose (Chorus!) Found a city in a street Hot and dusty at my feet Hardened contrast with the sky Colfax dry and yawning Made myself up like an other Played a part to call them brother Fear and guilt then multiply like The snore of ceaseless sawing Elves at work within the engine Move themselves into dissension Clogs that clog the cogs of motors Imaginary saboteurs Sabbath workers see this violence Starving now no longer stylish Useless as your average voters Democracy as horse manure Prop my legs against the window Playing Christ like Max von Sydow Crossing crosswalks like an ocean This bus now a dark Mayflower Clouds as dark as chew tobacco Blood rains from a dull X-Acto Pavement speckled, light corrosion Drizzling in secret power Cheap box wine to soften syntax Drugs dance in a salty synapse Slept on couches in the lobby Your vomit like blueberry yogurt The road was dark stretched out before us And dark they dimly sang a chorus Verses just a hapless hobby Leonard Cohen very covert Hungry mornings feeling haughty Blanch at bitter day-old coffee The planet looks for its next meal Treadmill species going nowhere Break the bastards, Don Quixote Abridge the book, include emojis Dream your dream and kill what's real I know your heart, I know you don't care You psychically became senescent Genius peaks at twenty-seven A cigarette you lit with some effort Fuck this rain I need the sunlight Trodding through the trampled flowers Worms that writhe on sideways towers It no longer matters whether You're a slug or you are upright Time and space becoming blurry Happy birthday two weeks early Saying your sane means next to nothing Nightlight glowing soft and purple The art had beauty only middling Orson Welles reciting Kipling The gallery had promised something The clouds like milk and lemons curdled One last block to keep it even Hearts are foul in open season Iron guides their secret impulse South toward third world resort beaches Dark dear heart was sung so pretty Rest of the album kinda shitty Prozac left my poor brain pickled Songs that fall to pieces All of this I count for nothing When I know it's missing something Something I will never have It's no longer good enough Make a whisper out of me

You told me you still punch yourself Oh bastion of my mental health I heard you scream so sick and (Zakk) Wylde Oh mother how I am your child You told me you were bored alone Lost so far away from home You clenched your teeth across those miles Oh father how I am your child I don't mind it All apologies but I was stitched together Something like a knot so I'll spill my seed On the rocky soil I won't do to them What you did to me