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lyrics

There's a knot in my stomach.
Sometimes I can't believe how weird it is to be a human being,
a wad of flesh and organs
and all of Darwin's deformities that must've died for me
to be this haunted thing...
Babies just cry, because they're having trouble adjusting
to being alive...

There's a knot in my stomach
and branches on my head
turning my blood to sap whenever I feel ashamed.
And I know they're there, because you look away uncomfortably
every time we speak...
There's a knot in my stomach...
and it's growing leaves.

Not a tree, not a human being.
Some failed attempt at suffering.
Some unknown wooden toy singing
the middle class straight white male blues.

I'm not clumsy,
there's just roots beneath my feet
trying to hold the earth in place, because lately it's been spinning much to fast.
And I can hear the harpies above me,
but it's never felt so good to stand out in the sunlight to photosynthesize.
Like the time it takes the red to dry
from a wine soaked book.

I never had an ear for pitch,
but in the stripes of light
from the venetian blinds,
I saw your body
as a perfect
C#!!!

In a dark movie theatre,
on a throne, sits a man with 1,000 faces all over his body
he's constructing the perfect awkward silence
to engulf the earth
for an eternity.
Sometimes you're the hero,
sometimes you're the villain,
sometimes you're the damsel in distress.

I never had an ear for pitch,
but in the stripes of light
from the venetian blinds,
I saw your body
as a perfect
C#...

Right around my birthday
the city streets become a cemetery for Christmas trees,
like molestation victims, wrapped in black trash bags and kicked out to the curb.
And as the schoolhouse was burning down, I could swear I heard it whimpering...

credits

from Last Night I Dreamt Your Body Was Made of Words, released September 10, 2010

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w o o l g a t h e r i n g image

w o o l g a t h e r i n g Paris, France

gathering wool to spin yarns.
the middle class, straight, white male blues.
@metaphornication
~~~~~~~~~~

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