wheat field with crows

so when you quit driving nails into my eyes for just a bit i'll pry the hammer from your goodbyes and sling it so far away finding it'll take forever less a day. the most common problem with webs is they won't leave you alone, but as this familiar tide ebbs i'm dying just to keep my home from breaking apart. i can see the cracks spreading like the dark and i wish i could say something worth saving. these frowns in hard-hats just won't ever stop repaving my past, half-assed, now half-past long past due. the time for half-mast has passed and if there's something i wish i had amassed, it's you.

big steps (dark satanic thrills)

it's not so much a pain as a shock-hurt, even thought the breakdown's just like clockwork. so i'm sitting here trying to be bobby oppenheimer with an emotion explosion and a ticking egg timer. a smile and a hug, denial and a tug at a heart in my head, of a hand in my bed. we know how this goes, the very same thing at all the very same shows. i've never been able to avoid you, not to mention all the tricks that annoyed you and i'd tackle/tap that crackle, snap popping of my dream bubble. these fingerprints can only mean trouble. i've never been there before but goddamn it i want to go. now i'm stuck in a detour and goddamn it i'll never even know (let alone come close).