It was hot and I wore short sleeves and you wore your short skirts
Run through the forest singing songs and snapping photos
And it smells like young love and old home
I am not as I once was, lie to me if you will
Any old old lie will do
Come back home darling, come back home
Call me your own, come back home darling
Come back home, call me your own
Because everyone I love is either
leaving or dying
All we are doing is either
laughing or crying
All the time
Since you're gone now
Smells like young love and kisses with chapstick
This is a dangerous thing we do
I don't care about anything else when I'm with you
Come back home love, call me your own once more
I heard you singing through the gaps in the flowers
Two teeth are clinging they split down the middle
I saw you dancing, then through that crevasse
And now in my head you are all that I think about.
I can almost just smell you, smell you right here, right now
Smells like the sun when it kisses your neck
Smells like your hair in the early autumn wind
Smells like your eyes and the early spring storms
Smells like your hands forming balls out of snow
There's nothing wrong with being alone
It depends on how you look at it
And I swear to god I'll always love you
or I mean I'll swear to someone's god
Cause I lost my faith once in December
And again in October two-thousand and eight
And then one more time on June Twenty-Seventh
and now again, a couple of days ago
Because everyone I love is either
leaving or dying
That seems to be the reoccurring theme
Because everyone I love is either
laughing or crying
All the time
Do you ever wonder what happens to thoughts we have, when we are done thinking them?
Or the words we say when we have finished saying them?
Do they just disappear?
Do you think they trail off and form clouds?
Maybe the sound waves float up through our atmosphere and right off our great big green planet
I think that they do
I think they float off the Earth
and travel throughout space for millions or trillions of light years, or what have you
and then in millions or trillions or billions of Earth years, or what have you
they will reach far away galaxies, finally
only stopping in for a moment and then fleeting onwards yet again
Perhaps some being on a planet much like ours
3.5 billion years from now will be standing in their space kitchens
cooking space dinner
and through a breeze in the window
a whisper grazes the side of their head
"i love you"
Maybe it makes their day.
Maybe the sound waves stop
and form a gigantic bubble of every thought ever had,
every word ever spoken
every love ever loved,
every clap and kick and snap and snare
and shakes of tambourines
i love you's and goodbye's
and hello's for that matter
a galaxy of everything ethereal
never-dying allways living
constantly traveling throughout time and space
literally
Perhaps this bubble in another set of a billion Earth years
becomes a planet in a glorious birth, or a bang
a planet distant light years away from here
where when it's born there will be kicks and claps and snaps and shakes of tambourines
and everyone is singing
because of all the singing we've done here, it has to go somewhere
a planet made of music and happiness and all the good things in life
and i love you's and goodbye's
and hello's for that matter
In my daydreams I often daydream of a place
millions of light years from where I am sitting at this moment
at a computer desk, in front of a screen, typing onto this machine
and I wonder
what if?
i will take all my love for you
and inflate it into balloons
tie them off and set them free
attach them to a giant peach
baby peach
wait for me
until i set you free
"i saw my future, it was bleak"
said the bird with the worm in his beak
and he clipped off his wings and dove with the doves to the streets
hoping he'd land on both his feet
and knowing that they'd creak
like old basement doors afterwords
and he hoped they would break
he liked things that way
he says "at least then there's room for improvement"
and it was sad when he died, and a few people cried
but not enough to make the water level rise
he thinks "i'm a bird and i can't even fly?"
"what's the point yeah we're all gonna die?"
and not a day passes by
where this bird doesn't cry
and he thinks
"man i really wish i could die"
The sound of a sigh
like whispers from giants
and a gang of coy gallants
still kicking my ass.
Life, in a whiff all ripped from a mirror.
My life in a whiff, oxygen escapes my breath
In a sniff, the stale stench of death
And how it tastes when it trickles down your throat.
Time spent, not wasted
(maybe)
We've been keeping busy
Arranging sounds where we deem necessary
And for all my lies, she thinks I'm still very loveable.
some days i feel
like the moon is closer than it usually is
and in the sky it's looking larger
and i wonder if it means you're closer
or if you're just looking out for me
but i'm probably just making lies
to comfort me, and shut my eyes
yes, i think i am.
when it gets warm
i hope that it's you breathing
or that i am
sharing the same air you are
where ever you are
and the leaves, off of trees
remind me of you
and the look of old keys
and the sound that they make
turning tumblers in an old lock
stuffed in a chest,
old linen and wedding dress
with the scent of a flower pressed into a page and rotted for thirty-five years
or a veil soaked in joyfully wept, delicate beautiful tears
life is a whiff of the smell of dead leaves
blown away with the wind in a delicate breeze
all hands off deck
and all men overboard
the captain is overboard and overheard
screaming screaming
abandon ship!
cannons split through the floorboard
let's get lost together
