I saw some shadows following me last night,
Some of them must have been yours.
They all disappeared by the morning,
Running in between the cords.

I’m so desperately in love with
Everyone i grew up with,
And that’s okay with me.
The shadows always come back to me.

Heavens gates are open but i stay grounded,
I’d ask for prayers but i don’t think that
No one here thinks much of me anyway.
I can still see the shadows anyway.

They’re running in between the cords.
Some of them have gotta be yours.

I am not in Kansas,
I can’t stand but I am dancing
Atop table counters at the mall,
Crying out in every bathroom stall.
Razor blades take lucid shapes,
Cut it all out, but save the rage,
Compress it into a can of air;
Forget where you are and why you’re there.
Freeze my lungs and burn my lips
In the grasp of your fingers’ tips.
Arizona is slipping away
My shoulder’s ink just fades and fades,
I am not in Kansas,
I got lost off where the sunset beckons,
Oh it’s calling to me,
In between all my lost ideas.

It’s been a while since I’ve bought a dress,
Or gotten a pack of cigarettes
Then burnt them and inhaled the ashes.
Now I just see ghosts of ghosts,
And can’t recall the words I spoke
Years ago to Mallory Olson,
**** it I killed my memory.
You gave me all of your mom’s liquor,
When I started getting a little too sober;
Oh I would’ve spun so hard,
I would’ve fallen so hard,
Jumping the fence to my backyard,
I am not in Kansas,
I got lost off where the sunset beckons,
Oh it’s calling to me,
In between all my lost ideas.

The ceiling only ever danced for you,
I was just happy to have a room,
Away from my home and family,
I liked the fire more than all the trees,
They all spoke to me in prophecy,
College degrees, wives, sons and daughters,
Each day destiny’s a little farther.
I left you where I met you,
With pyrite and a tattoo;
The flowers cover over all the scars,
Darling, the flowers cover everything,
The flowers will cover over everything.
I am not in Kansas,
I got lost off where the sunset beckons,
Oh it’s calling to me,
In between all my lost ideas.

The past’s mistakes do not go on gently,
They bask in desire and superstition.
So i mourn old memories turned deadly,
That still compound now with repetition.

My Sins are never truly repented.
They surface each day, with new renditions;
Only to be instantly lamented,
But regret submits to repetition.

Lust and greed and especially vanity,
All fated for contentment’s demolition,
All that I’ve loved is lost so damnably,
Through the wickedness of repetition.

All these words are merely an admission,
For action—still follows repetition.

I hung myself on the first of July.
Hung myself right atop Picacho peak,
Where hard dry desert meets infinite sky;
Off between angels’ cries and demons’ shrieks.

But louder were the caws of some near crow
Who rasped joyfully, “This is the last place,”
He smiled, “There is nowhere else to go.”
Laughing vainly ‘til tears stream’d down his face.

And flew off into a veiled oasis,
Some realm my presence was not permitted,
Where mortality was not life's basis,
And creatures rivaled gods; ne’er submitted.

Oh that region knew neither pain nor death,
But I thought none of it aft’r my last breath.

My eyes did not open this morning,
But that's okay, my bed is warming.
A hornet's nest is hanging above me,
But that's alright, it's just a warning

Of good feelings cuz they're never free.
Broke the mirror cuz I don't like what I see;
Knuckles scab and my tongue is flayed,
Hurts so bad but the pain is heavenly.

Oh darling what of that floor you laid?
What of all the debts that were left unpaid?
All the times I promised I'd be alright,
But I'm still ****** up and I wish I'd stayed.

Yeah baby that's okay, baby, that's alright,
I'm cold but my rooms filled with golden light.
I can't see it with my eyes stitched so tight,
Oh but that's okay baby; cuz I think I feel alright.

I have heard the war drums approach,
On the borders of angry states,
Where lesser men dare not encroach;
And strong men meet untimely fates.

"In what time and in which manner?"
They come in random intervals.
"For what cause and for who's banner?"
A dead issue to disposed souls.

I have seen blood wet two lands soil,
And dry to a patriot stain,
But when old blood is set to boil;
Young blood returns to spill again!