I've got a lot in my head.
a lot of you, maybe.
i'm trying hard
not to fall too hard for you.
we've been this way before.
oh, i'm sure you know--
your eyes need validation.
this desolation that I get
from looking at you
looking at someone else
is terribly inconsistent.
you said, "i'd love for us to spend a night together."
oh, darling, if only you knew.

You're on your way home
and i've always wanted
to take you.
I know I'm not
your type of guy
but this is my type of disaster
so, i hope you kind of want to take me, too.
take me to hell, maybe
'cause that line sounds preposterous
and pretentious
at the exact same time--
but not really.
it all comes down to, "do you believe in it?"
and i believe in you,
and in love,
and in coincidence
and in the idea of chasing you
'cause that's all i can ever hope for.
you're all i can ever hope for.

I've got a lot in my head.
a lot of you, maybe.
honestly, i have fallen.
yes, too hard, for you.
and love found me too soon.
i hope it didn't yet
'cause right now
i'm half fixed, half broken
and always out of tune.
like the moon, you'll always find
your way back
and that scares me
'cause i'm not the one you'll go back to.
i'm not even the one
you took a chance with.
i'm not anyone.

I'm on my ****** way home.
and i begin to daydream
on how we'll spend that night together
if it ever comes in touch with reality.
and if it will ever make a difference,
i'll just put this out here
so you'll know:
i love you.
that's right, darling,
i'm starting to.

in the end, life will wear us out,
beyond repair.

cast our souls into the void,
but don't despair.

hair, bones and flesh with time
will tatter.  

but luminous beings we are,
not this crude matter.

Twenty-one years of what exactly was I taught? I believed you two to be super heroes, or so I thought. Turned seventeen realized life's nothing but a thought.
I'm thinking I'm alive, but really I'm not.
I saw past materialism, chose to sin.
Now I hope I can be forgiven, look into the mirror I'm afraid of my reflection.
I'm not who I was.
I'm not where I am.
I don't know who I am.
I can't find where to stand.
     Miss the days when blankets were stronger than Fort Knox, and money had one meaning: to buy train stations, and  the chances we took were cards in a box and we didn't use our cars to hotbox but we matched a lot.
While momma was tryin' to teach me don't monopolize the TV that's just greedy. Noweverydaygoesbyspeedy and I don't have an effort to make myself peace treaties stuck in my self pity, wallowing like a wallaby with abstract gynecology Twitter-less no one follows me I hate my top eight. I've ruined the recipe but I still eat this teaming plate so I'm just left with a bitter taste.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.