Alcohol's the devil
and he's my only friend.

The polaroid.

The sidewalks.

Lake Calhoun.

Sleeping in the hot and sticky trunk.

The stars.

Hiding.

Your cave.

Being ashamed.

Saying goodbye.

Seeing the stars.

The paintings.

The polaroids.

The legs draped over the arm rest of the sofa.

Who's feet are these?

The stars of Minneapolis.

The courtyard.

My face.

Your beautiful ****** angel.

The Starlite Motel.

Seeing the stars of Minneapolis.

The cave.

The paint puddles in a Bible.

The most beautiful night you've ever had.

Don't paint anyone else.

Show me the stars of Minneapolis from inside your cave.

I didn't know 'till now.

I just didn't know.

today a friend of mine told me that in china
they only say i love you when they really mean it;
she talked about it like it was a loaded gun,
like telling somebody i love you also meant
i'd **** for you, i'd die for you, i'd live for you.

i don't know how to be brave enough to say that
straight, but if i could, i would fly you across the globe
to help you understand.

i wish my generation would stop
romanticizing misery; if he only loves you
because you are sad, then what will happen
when he's the only one to make you happy

(are you prepared to watch him walk away
for another girl reading bukowski?)

One for the pain
two for the madness
one for the grief
one to sleep

It adds up
as it breaks you down
but it means well
it means to stand in place for all the missing pieces of you
but the truth is it can't

this cracked foundation
is patched up
with crumpled newspapers bathed in toxic ink

they mean well
the one for the pain
the two for the madness
the one for the grief
and the one to sleep

but the truth is
the ground is breaking
I was founded in swamp

i used to hate sundays,
but sometimes you hold
my hands in the pews
at church and i think that
i've been saved in more
ways than one

(i picked up
all your old habits,
and i'm not
letting them
go)