This is a rough version of the first track I wrote for the album. I will be producing a demo in the next week or two, which I will post here.
quite like waking up behind you, on the ruins of last night–
32 ounces buried between the couch cushions to
our immediate right,
loaded .45 beneath your side of the mattress, second degree murder
the instant you hurt her, its
and suddenly our marital bed
is just another stick of furniture to
stash a semi-automatic sense of wanderlust,
each little adrenaline rush I felt when I wanted you most–
the deprivation feels as close to death as I have ever known.
And I admit it’s
a little jarring, to know our sparring is merely symptomatic,
an anaphylatic reaction to our sudden loss of traction,
emotionally taxed at our most
to deny even the most beautiful thing in the world is incapable
can’t share the focus
of loneliness in a boneless marriage of anger and shame– just
imagine the fruit of THOSE loins.
It’s a flip of the coin, actually
whether you love a person and all their warts, and how you
court their ugliness,
assimilate it into joy.
We’re all part-illegal alien,
hapless patrons in a bar pretending we can find
someone who will stand our
In your case, you made