#slipdiver

i'd like to think that i'd die here with you, but in reality i'd just run away and hope to find a brand new place to crawl under the carpet where i belong, to find a life. outside of town there's an interstate. it'll take you wherever you want to be. but i'll stay in ohio and convince myself that i'm not alone. let's get out of here. let's get some gas. and burn down every warehouse printing ads of red lipstick and sports cars, head south, and pretend we're not alone. i miss laying on your floor and looking under your bed, seeing things you forgot existed. i miss tearing your walls apart, and writing you notes with pen and  hearts. i miss you so much, you know. i always had it out for you. lets get the fuck out of here, and head south to disappear. what a page could never display. like fur on animals, like Morrissey said, "please, please, please". what i want is not what i asked for. i loved you all too well, you meant the world to me.

nothing we say will last long at all. these hours alone pass like eternity. i don’t remember, but i can’t forget the turmoil within me. and those beautiful things you said but you didn’t mean. i drove a nail into your footprint in the soil. “born into this” is what bukowski said, but i don’t believe it. you’re fucking useless.

the landscapes have their own pace, but the machines have lost their way; clinging to its owner, growing as we get older. but in my dreams, i shot her, waking with a brain of fodder, the fodder that you've known from chances i've blown. half a day spent shaking like a leaf blown from a tree, or wet in the street, crawling towards where i'll be buried. i picture an unmarked grave, but instead it will read "died four years after he stopped breathing, but still seeing green.” calling all butterflies to fight the wind going against their direction.the patterns on their wings paint pictures on the sky.trying hard to stay aflight, but not tonight. (we wrote this song in the studio in a matter of 20 minutes or so. we just winged it, and i cannot believe the result. we put such little thought into it, and it to this day is one of my favorite songs i've written.)

the landscapes have their own pace, but the machines have lost their way; clinging to its owner, growing as we get older.but in my dreams i shot her, waking with a brain of fodder. the fodder that you've known from chances i've blown. half a day spent shaking life a leaf blown from a tree or wet in the street, crawling towards where i'll be buried. i picture an unmarked grave but, instead it will read "died four years after he stopped breathing, but still seeing green." calling all butterflies to fight the wind going against their direction. the patterns on their wings paint pictures on the sky. trying hard to stay aflight, but not tonight.

here is a video of me recording with my other band “slipdiver” and doing a killer job.

me 4 years ago - *kinda kills it on first take* lenny four years ago - “most of that was good.” (via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJzrRigVQTE)