1. |
Intra
02:26
|
|||
|
the world is my oyster
so i went to the store day ??????????????
|
||||
2. |
House Song
02:28
|
|||
|
the trouble is
I don't know
colder than I ever wanted
(I want to believe)
-ne ne neee-
it'll be ok
it'll never be
will it ever be?
I don't know
I don't know what the mouse said...
it'll be ok
it'll never be
it will never be
|
||||
3. |
Break Beat
03:51
|
|||
|
sometimes we get cut and we never know reasons
when band aids won't fix it we get used to bleeding
was I the boyfriend the blew it?
or the one that never gave a shit?
when you won't talk to me
who calls before I sleep?
poor me feeling like I have nothing.
except the pictures in my old phone
from the night of winter formal.
I imagine seeing you in public and turning my face.
it's a shame to admit that but time has made me this way.
:(
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
rappers think I'm salty cuz I eat too many cheetos.
wet suits on wet suits on wet suits like speedos.
digging for some change just to buy some fucking Fritos
Never new him well but I think I heard speak yo.
Opens up his mouth straight shitting out mosquito's.
and you know that he knows that he don't like Cheetos
Fake Rappers Eat Fritos
and fuck with those cheat codes.
|
||||
5. |
Sleigh Bells
02:22
|
|||
|
i wanted to say
i want it ok
everything i wanted is in my room
(you're falling)
(in my room)
i found you there
everyone has a place
and i found out
all i had was grace
dont let me fall
down into places
now i try to feel fine
and i feel fine
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
my only thing is that usually
my problems are located above me
a kind of elevation that makes it's own
indescribable all the crickets they own
but barely. I often feel the heat of them
on the bent of my neck like a small box.
like a colorless get gel that everyone has
on their table.
no one remembers what they ever used it for
the sky is full of problems and one day I am going to die with them.
head back, looking up, wishing I could join them.
that's the only thing. like it just really kills me.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
this house is full of eye-level clouds.
every night, between 1 am and the
sound of that cat in the alley outside.
pudgy cloud belies full of half dreams
and night sores. I wander into them at random, accidentally.
In the midst of calling crows, or scraping lacquer from the celing,
or whatever it is that I do at these unspoken hours.
one cloud dream was a boil of monstrous serenity that very nearly killed me. In the fields were flowers carved out of the prettiest of all the other flowers, swaying from the hardened influence of a massive subwoofer. little waves of rumble.
for a while, I was made quite irrational by the knowledge of perfection. I said things. there were claw marks. and I kicked myself for it later, picking up all of the blood I had spilled. But I still look for that could from time to time.
(squinting hard, because they're all of them invisible, and made of brooding fumes. next time, I tell myself, peering into the mass of my open door. next time, I'll just close my eyes and die.)
|
||||
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