HOZIER’S “WASTELAND, BABY!” SENTENCE STARTERS
feel free to change pronouns, etc!
‘ it’s not the waking, it’s the rising. ’
‘ it is the grounding of a foot uncompromising. ’
‘ it’s not forgoing of the lie, it’s not the opening of eyes. ’
‘ it’s not the shade; we should be past it. it’s the light, and it’s the obstacle that casts it. ’
‘ it’s the heat that drives the light. ’
‘ it’s the heaven of a human spirit ringing. ’
‘ and i could cry power. ’
‘ it’s not the wall, but what’s behind it. ’
‘ power has been cried by those stronger than me, straight into the face that tells you to rattle your chains if you love being free. ’
‘ i came in from the outside, burned out from a joyride. ’
‘ the same kind of music haunts her bedroom. ’
‘ i’m almost me again. ’
‘ i’m almost me again. she’s almost you. ’
‘ i wouldn’t know where to start. ’
‘ be still my foolish heart. ’
‘ don’t ruin this on me. ’
‘ let’s get lost and let the good times roll. ’
‘ let’s smoke rings from this paper doll. ’
‘ i got some color back. ’
‘ i laugh like me again, she laughs like you. ’
‘ the very thought of you, and i am blue. ’
‘ i get along without you very well some other nights. ’
‘ i still watch you when you’re grooving. ’
‘ you’re moving without moving. ’
‘ when you move, i’m moved. ’
‘ you are a call to motion. ’
‘ when you move, i’m put to mind of all that i wanna be. ’
‘ i could never define all that you are to me. ’
‘ move me, baby. ’
‘ you do it naturally. ’
‘ honey, you’re atlas in his sleeping. ’
‘ i recall something that’s gone from me. ’
‘ when you move, i’m put in awe of something so flawed and free. ’
‘ what a waste to say the heart could feel apart, or feel complete. ’
‘ why would you make out of words a cage for your own bird, when it sings so sweet the screaming, heaving fuckery of the world? ’
‘ why would you offer a name to the same old tired pain? ’
‘ all things come from nothing. ’
‘ my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. ’
‘ i know now that you understand. ’
‘ there’s no plan. ’
‘ there’s no race to be run. ’
‘ the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun. ’
‘ there’s no kingdom to come. ’
‘ i’ll be your man if you got love to get done. ’
‘ sit in and watch the sunlight fade. ’
‘ it’s getting late. ’
‘ there’s no hand on the rein. ’
‘ as mack explained, there will be darkness again. ’
‘ let the awful song be heard. ’
‘ i know your beat, baby. ’
‘ your secret is safe with me. ’
‘ if secrets were like seeds, keep my body from the fire, hire a gardener for my grave. ’
‘ if secrets were like seeds, when i’m lying under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made. ’
‘ it’s gin o’clock. ’
‘ i think about you everywhere i go. ’
‘ i’ve done everything and i’ve been everywhere. ’
‘ i’ve been fed gold by sweet fools. ’
‘ i’ve had no love like your love from nobody. ’
‘ i’d be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint. ’
‘ i wouldn’t fall for someone i thought couldn’t misbehave. ’
‘ i once warmed my hands over a burning maserati. ’
‘ why should we deny the truth? ’
‘ we could have less to worry about — i won’t lie to you. ’
‘ remember when you’d sing just for the fuck of it? ’
‘ the look of it was as sweet as the sound. ’
‘ i couldn’t name that feeling carried in that voice — was it that, or just the act of making noise that brought you joy? ’
‘ you don’t have to sing it right, but who could call you wrong? ’
‘ put your emptiness to melody, your awful heart to song. ’
‘ you don’t have to sing it right. ’
‘ you don’t have to sing it right, but sing it strong. ’
‘ at best, you’ll find a little remedy. ’
‘ at worst, the world will sing along. ’
‘ we’d scuff up our shoes. ’
‘ you didn’t always sing it right. ’
‘ who could ask you to be unbroken or be brave again? ’
‘ be unbroken. ’
‘ be brave again. ’
‘ who could ask you to be sound or to feel saved again? ’
‘ stick around until you hear that music play again. ’
‘ so honey, sing. ’
‘ sing. ’
‘ remember when you’d sing just for the love of it? and any joy it would bring? ’
‘ there is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved, whenever i’d have life enough, my heart is screaming of. ’
‘ and in a few days, i would be there, love. ’
‘ whatever here that’s left of me is yours. ’
‘ the highs hit the heights of my baby, and its hold had the fight of my baby. ’
‘ the lights were as bright as my baby, ’
‘ your love was unmoved. ’
‘ tell me if, somehow, some of it remains, how long you would wait for me. ’
‘ make your good love known to me. ’
‘ tell me about your day. ’
‘ and the nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too. ’
‘ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted. ’
‘ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now. ’
‘ i’m singing like a bird about it now. ’
‘ i couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted. ’
‘ words hung above, but never would form — like a cry at the final breath that is drawn. ’
‘ remember me. ’
‘ remember me, love. ’
‘ remember me, love, when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn. ’
‘ i’d no idea on what ground i was founded. ’
‘ all of that goodness is going with you now. ’
‘ then, when i met you, my virtues uncounted — all of my goodness is going with you now. ’
‘ all of my goodness is going with you now. ’
‘ dragging along, following your form, hung like the pelt of some prey you had won. ’
‘ i’m hung like the pelt of some prey you had one. ’
‘ remember me when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn. ’
‘ i fled to the city with so much discounted. ’
‘ i fled to the city with so much discounted, but i’m flying like a bird to you now. ’
‘ i’m flying like a bird to you now. ’
‘ i’m flying like a bird to you now, back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted. ’
‘ i was housed by your warmth. ’
‘ i was thus transformed by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn. ’
‘ i’d be the voice that urged orpheus when her body was found. i’d be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground. ’
‘ i’d be the dreadful need in the devotee. ’
‘ i’d be the immediate forgiveness in eurydice. ’
‘ imagine being loved by me. ’
‘ i won’t deny — i’ve got in my mind now all the things i would do. ’
‘ i try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i’m imagining you. ’
‘ i’d be the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love. ’
‘ i’d be the sweet feeling of release. ’
‘ be as you’ve always been. ’
‘ lover, be good to me. ’
‘ be like the love that discovered the sin, that freed the first man and will do so again. ’
‘ be that hopeful feeling when eden was lost. ’
‘ it’s been deaf to our laughter since the master was crossed. ’
‘ which side of the wall really suffers that cost? ’
‘ be love in its disrepute. ’
‘ love, in its disrepute, scorches the hillside and salts every root. ’
‘ watch the slowing and starving of troops. ’
‘ be like the rose that you hold in your hand, that will grow bold in a barren and desolate land. ’
‘ love, won’t you be as you’ve always been? ’
‘ this club here is stuck up. ’
‘ i knew well from our first hookup the look of mischief in your eyes. ’
‘ your friends are a fate that befell me. ’
‘ hell is the talking type. ’
‘ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ’
‘ that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. ’
‘ honey, i laugh when it sinks in. ’
‘ the evening is slowing. ’
‘ the end is in sight. ’
‘ it’s easier knowing what you’d do to me tonight. ’
‘ let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised. ’
‘ let there be damage ensued and tabloid news. ’
‘ i saw your hair like the branch of a tree — a willow dancing on air before covering me. ’
‘ that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me. ’
‘ the sound of the saw must be known by the tree. ’
‘ i fretted fire, but that was long ago. ’
‘ i blink in sight of your blinding light. ’
‘ it’s not tonight where you hold me tight. ’
‘ you’re good to me. ’
‘ with the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet. ’
‘ like the ashes of ash, i saw rise in the heat. ’
‘ i fell in love with the fire long ago. ’
‘ with each love i cut loose, i was never the same. ’
‘ i’m watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame. ’
‘ i was fixed on your hand of gold laying waste to my loving long ago. ’
‘ in awe, there i stood. ’
‘ though i’ve handled the wood, i still worship the flame. ’
‘ as long as the amber of ember glows, all the would that i’d loved is long ago. ’
‘ i would shun the light. ’
‘ share in evening’s cool and quiet. ’
‘ who would trade that hum of night for sunlight? ’
‘ but whose heart would not take flight? ’
‘ but whose heart would not take flight, betray the moon as acolyte, on first and fierce affirming sight of sunlight? ’
‘ i’d been lost to you. ’
‘ i flew like a moth to you. ’
‘ oh, your love is sunlight. ’
‘ all the tales the same, told before and told again. ’
‘ a soul that’s born in cold and rain knows sunlight. ’
‘ oh, my sunlight. ’
‘ all that was shown to me, sunlight, was something foreknown to me. ’
‘ all these colors fade for you only. ’
‘ hold me. ’
‘ carry me slowly. ’
‘ each day, you’d rise with me. ’
‘ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty. ’
‘ strap the wing to me. death trap-clad, happily, with wax melted, i’d meet the sea. ’
‘ all the fear and the fire of the end of the world happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl. happens great, happens sweet. ’
‘ happily, i’m unfazed here, too. ’
‘ wasteland baby, i’m in love with you. ’
‘ baby, i’m in love with you. ’
‘ all the things yet to come are the things that have passed: like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass. ’
‘ i’m in love with you. ’
‘ and i love too that love soon might end. ’
‘ be still, my indelible friend. you are unbreaking. ’
‘ you are unbreaking, though quaking. ’
‘ that day that we watch the death of the sun; the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on. ’
‘ you gaze unafraid as they sob from the city ruins. ’
‘ the stench of the sea and the absence of green are the death of all things that are seen and unseen. ’
‘ not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do. ’
‘ that’s it. ’
