Thursday, December 24, 2009 @ 10:19 am

i hear your southern dialect over western roots. your smile might be quite beautiful- but it's too early in the morning to open my eyes. it's too early in the year to open my mind- but it's already december. etched into the grains of our hearts, and the crevices of our head. we know how the story goes- so just turn the god damned page so we can act surprised. i'm good at pretending, thanks to her. she showed me the way through the wonders of hell. sometimes i see her charm in your indignation. sometimes i see her in you. but sometimes i see nothing at all. blind faith and hind sight will only save you from the martyrdom. well, maybe it wont. who knows anymore. so tell me; if i spelled out these words on my wrists, would you look past my eyes and into my throat? i can only say it so many ways before it's just another sad old story, and we'll soon realize there was no point in turning the pages. every chapter was the same. so maybe we should split ways, and call it a night life. i have my outs and escapes. maybe i'll admire the view of the world from up there. though, the skyscrapers will never be as high as you and i. still i will try. still i will climb. but i can only stand on this roof, screaming for so long. you taught me to climb, but you never showed me how to get back down. i can't blame you for my inadequacies, but i sure can blame you for my insecurities. lock the gates- it's getting dark- and we all know, the boogie man comes out at night. so just go to sleep, and wait for the morning to come. and in the morning, you'll be by my side. just remember to whisper. i hear your southern dialect over western roots. let's put this song on repeat, and fall asleep in each others thoughts. look up at the sky, and memorize the stars. one day, they will all go away and we will be left with nothing but the moon's shine and the dust. take a deep breath. it will all be over soon. it will all be over soon. the cd skips and i've lost my train of thought.

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white. And in between the moon and you, the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right. I walk in the air between the rain- through myself and back again. Where? I don't know. She says she's dying. And through the door I hear her crying. Why? I don't know. And she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land- just like she's walking on a wire in the circus. She parks her car outside of my house and takes her clothes off. Says she's close to understanding Jesus. She knows she's more than just a little misunderstood, and she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous. She says, "It's only in my head." She says, "Shhh... I know... It's only in my head." But the girl on the car in the parking lot says, "Man, you should try to take a shot. Can't you see my walls are crumbling?" Then she looks up at the building, and says she's thinking of jumping. She says she's tired of life. She must be tired of something. Will you catch if I'm falling? Will you catch me if I'm falling? Will you catch me cause I'm falling down on you. I said I'm under the gun. I'm innocent, and I'm under the gun. And I can't see nothing. Nothing.