I was thinking about wills
what we leave for those we love
(and those we don't)
when we die
I've always been a little too materialistic
that's what happens when you've got nothing to cherish
"where it counts"
I have my guitars
my collection of snow globes
some dusty glass jars
expired makeup
a row of empty pill bottles
but of all my material things
that I guess you could say I hold dear
I couldn't think of anything to leave for you
so I thought, and I thought
and I realized that I didn't need words on a paper
and a signature in black ink
to give you
my heart

oh, love
I'll keep my doors closed
but never locked.

my frame sways in the wind
the breeze lifts the shingles on my roof
years of precipitation slowly wear away at the brick
I'm tired of the plywood covering my windows
sick of the empty chairs
I can't breathe under the 6-inch layer
of dust and neglect
these patchwork remains of home
don't satisfy me any longer
they say you can't help others
if don't help yourself
but these four walls mean nothing to me
so let me do what I can, while I can
and when my foundation finally crumbles
I'll let go of what I have
sell my sewing machines
give you my collection of glue guns
so maybe you can hold your own when I'm gone
peel away the duct tape
that's kept me in one piece for so long
and throw it to the wind
I'm falling apart at what's left of my seams
and I'm gonna let it happen.

you are a fetal pig
dissected
cut open
for science
displayed before me
on a shiny slab of steel
dripping with chemicals
meant to keep you clean
for the next person
to pick you apart
and take notes on what they see
dress me up in a white jacket
scrub my skin
make me sterile
give me your protective glasses
don't forget to distort the lenses
I couldn't see straight, anyway
but don't hand me that knife
'cause the blood I see on my hands
won't be yours
I promise

I could tell you why
you can never get the mailbox to close
but it would be a waste of breath
because you never listen to me anyway

the process of finding a lifelong love
is pointless
human psyche is still guided
by primitive instinct
to find a lover
to procreate
and when the individual
finds something better
she leaves

the gold reflected in your hair
from the sun dancing off the ocean
will never amount to all he's searching for
when you wake up alone in the morning

you grew up on hip hop
and he was sort of punk rock
and I bet that's what he told you
when he walked out the door

let him go, love
know he'll never come back
I believe you'll love him a million years
just don't expect the same

so put on your heels
and play your games
and find yourself a heaven
somewhere new