Camera

What the camera sees
it isn’t me
it isn’t really me

I’ll fill the details in
with all the things
that maybe you should know

It’s annotated and cross-referenced
it’s encyclopaedic
it’s irrelevant

I am more than a collection of parts
I am more a shadow in a cave
I am more than a soul to be saved

Waking Up

I keep waking up broken
Don’t know what happened to me in the dark
I lost another memory
Can’t keep going with so many missing parts

But you are on the breeze
As if to say do you remember me
I can’t forget the way you move
You still move inside of me
I do, I do, I do remember you

Fallen Cathedral

In this great fallen cathedral
we are holding a bazaar
You can find anything
your heart desires

From the hearts of broken people
to the ever-moving star
That marks the place

She Always Shoots You Down

I was flying halfway to the moon
told the satellites I’d find her soon
but the hidden guns were all I found
love, she always shoots you down
love, she shoots you down

I was skipping rungs up two by two
for a better life in navy blue
but the dirt I hit was army brown
love, she always shoots you down
love, she shoots you down

Knowing

As it turns out, you never get to know
except a few things, but fewer than you knew
I guess you get old and leave here for a while
and then you come back when it has been made new

I know that’s not what you wanted to hear
that I can’t take it’s measure
but in the end perhaps you’ll find that it’s clear
in your golden forever

Backwards

come on come on
everybody’s wrong
everybody’s song
is playing backwards

sleeping dogs lie
curled up in the sky
they never wonder why
it’s running backwards

I could learn a thing or two
absent in epiphany
we could let it work itself
out

let’s build a wall
against the empty squall
of doomsday prophets all
who got it backward

nothing will end
at least of what can bend
and let me tell you, friend
I’m bending backward

I could learn a thing or two
absent in epiphany
we could let it work itself
out

Yellow Bird

in the beginning was a word
it was something that you heard
on the street

it kept on ringing in your head
a little yellow bird that said
move your feet

these movements
you didn’t study
but your body
knows

these moments
you can’t remember
but your body
knows

Hold On

You can hold on to anything that you want to.
As long as it keeps you afloat you’re okay.
As long as it keeps your head above water.
As long as it keeps you sane for the day.

Camera II

Camera o camera what do you see
all these backwards upside down pictures of me
I keep on hiding but you’ve already got
enough to put me in a box

I will be fine
in retrospect
what will we find
in retrospect
I will be fine

Black Balloon

This song is like a black balloon
elephant cloud in the middle of the room
everyone can hear the tune
they open windows to dissipate the gloom

Static

Bury it alive. Listen to the beat
slowly winding down, it’s going away.
Life is analog. It’s not just on or off.
It comes and it goes, it comes and goes.

Your head is a radio
Your heart is an antenna
You feel like you’re static
You feel like your dilemma

Sky Falls

The sky is falling down
like is always has
it’s falling down around
our shoulders

When it does we will
finally catch a glimpse
of all the planets in
our solar system

It’s not a bad thing
we never learned to breathe
the way we should

Valuable

You have walked the twenty blocks to where
all the people seem put together
patched up and sewn together so well
where all your stuffing’s coming out.

You’ve been on a train to nowhere
so long you can’t recall solid ground
can’t remember paying for it
in blood and tears, in blood and years

but you’re more valuable
than diamonds and gold
so why do you keep saying

I’ve got nothing that you should want to have
I’ve got nothing but broken pieces
I’ve got nothing but the words you said
I love you I love you I love you
You keep begging for salvation
but it never seems to find you out
hidden in plain sight you are
everywhere and nowhere at once

there is happiness in chemicals
happiness you trade for dollar bills
and all the other fantasies
you’ve tried them all

Should

Proud of the scars?
Gotten this far.
Should be.

Memories decay.
Better that way.
Should be.

Waking up and this isn’t
waking up and thing isn’t
waking up and this isn’t
home. Should be.

Hometown Girl Makes Good

What are you looking for?
Will you know it when you see it, finally?
With your foot in the door
to a place I have left behind me

Oh I, Oh I would tell you if I could
If you could be the hometown girl makes good

Could you give me a clue?
Maybe just the room or weapon.
Something to misconstrue,
connecting dots that never happened.

Oh I, Oh I would tell you if I could
Then you could be hometown girl makes good

Maybe no-one has the key to it.
Maybe no-one really knows.
Maybe we’re all in the same house
lighting matches as we go.

Songs originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2010-08-29.

or frozen solid
bones of granite
tell the story
artful as ever

It’s all lies
yeah you know
yeah you know
it’s all lies
it’s all lies

buried in a closet
bolts of hidden logic
sewn to be forgotten
quick as ever

a better plotline
motive and design
a novel concept
it fits together

Lies originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2010-08-28.

I keep on walking through this door
And i barely think about it any more.
Will you forgive if I leave it ajar,
and someone follows me into the dark?

Cause your blood covers a multitude of sins,
but surely there’s some things you can’t abide:
My nails dipped in the blood of innocence
but the rest of my body outside.

The gifts you give invisible to me
when a stable floor is all I can see,
but you’re shaking it out of its disguise,
healing for the ones who lift their eyes.

Cause your blood covers a multitude of sins,
but surely there’s some things you can’t abide:
My nails dipped in the blood of innocence,
but the rest of my body outside.

The same mouth that blesses curses,
and these coals are guttering now.
Am I the seed scattered deep in a shadow,
in the salt looking back from the plow?

Blood of Innocence originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2010-08-14.

The cataclysm came much quicker that I’d ever thought.
A question split the cord, confession twisted in knots.
From your metalic tears I mind the iron for a battleship,
but you didn’t fight. You’d already left me behind.

And in a week on Hilton Head, the water taught me how
salt water can cleanse, or it can break a building down.
In the morning light I eyed the shore to find the ediface,
but I couldn’t find a single spire left behind.

Like newborn day, like epitaph.
Like a dream forgotten, how it passed.
These better angels welcome home,
from empty tombs, oh how they’ve flown.

Still, sometimes I forget the words reversed and upside down.
A child so badly written you can’t help but help it drown.
But from those jumbled letters I’ve assembled something wonderful.
Something all mine that I can’t leave behind.

Apologies To The Queen originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-12-28.

You told me that you loved me; I knew what you meant,
but I can’t help imagining what might have been,
if only I had told you I was on the edge.
But I don’t dare say it, cause you’re the kind of girl
I could fall in love with.

I’d take away your pain if you’d ease my regret,
with some whisky in a bottle and some cigarettes.
We could laugh about nothing. That’s as good as it gets.
But I don’t dare repeat it, cause you’re the kind of girl
I could fall in love with.

I know that this is crazy, but I’ll toe the line,
in order to feel something, and to pass the time.
Keep telling me “never”. I don’t mind.
I just can’t believe it. You’re the kind of girl
I could fall in love with.

The Kind of Girl originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-12-28.

Let’s spend time talking
about something or nothing.
It doesn’t matter
what we say.

All the sentences I use,
they’re perfect when you’re
smiling at me.

originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-12-28.

Will you remember all of this,
apalling fall, the tender kiss
of flame and pain and bliss
of being spread over the wall?
The red wall, the red wall, the red wall.

Was it your first breath,
or was it your last breath?
In amneosis, screaming
to let them know
that you have arrive here.
Oh, why are you crying?
You’re supposed to be happy,
you’re supposed to be happy here.

Is this all you remember,
is this all you remember,
is this all you remember,
the red wall?

The Red Wall originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-12-28.

Let’s not think about the emails to be read
and calls that pile up like bricks. Let’s build a wall
where only we can go and nobody can find us.
Leave the world behind us and while away the afternoon.

Song originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-09-22.

Beautiful birds run away from the buildings
and clamber their way to the sky,
passengers saying their prayers at windows
all hoping their gods won’t reply.

Amen. Another one’s lifted high.
Amen. Another one’s lifted high.

Stuck in a city the size of an airport
watching the place running down.
No one knows what time it is in Toronto,
or where’s the best coffee in town.

Carrion birds lie in wait on the buildings,
their dangerous weight just enough
for mothers to pray Jesus’ grace on their children,
that heaven would take them with love.

Amen. Another one’s lifted up.
Amen. Another one’s lifted up.

Lifted originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-08-27.

There are lines to cross and lines to keep reciting.
Some days the sticks are woven in the spokes.
There are things to keep and things to keep from fighting.
Days to pause and days to go for broke.

Does it sting a little, peeking over to tomorrow?
Are you measuring the means to the end?

Means & Ends originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-05-23.

Lord, can you hear my cry?
Am I wasting my time?
Your still, small voice replies,
“Child, you are still mine.”

And I am, I am, I am safe in your hands.
I am, I am, I am safe in your plan.

You have seen the worst in me,
all the other loves that I chase.
Like a prisoner set free
running back to fasten his chains.

Like a moth to a flame
I am burned time after time,
but you love me just the same,
you say, “Child, you are still mine.”

And I am, I am, I am safe in your hands.
I am, I am, I am safe in your plan.

I come running back to you time after time
to the shadow of your wings,
and you say, “Child, you are mine.”

Safe originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-04-19.

It’s complicated in retrospect to see what it’s about.
It’s hard to hate it, the means and ends, to level out.

If I could tweak the gears, an errant engineer,
the troughs would disappear and level out.
But things are meant to pass, in memory and ash,
simplified and crass, leveled out.

It’s annotated, its facts are checked. See what it’s about?
It’s hard to hate it, the means and ends, to level out.

To Level Out originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-03-10.

Throw him in the oven. If he lives then we will love him.
And at least he’ll be sure he’s alive.
If he dies we will dissect him, from the sternum to the rectum
so we can finally understand what’s inside.

It’s a good plan. It’s a good, use the good plan. Use the good plan.

Toss him in the oil, and we’ll watch to see him boil.
if he doesn’t, we’ll let up a cheer.
If he does you get the batter, roll him up and mind the splatter,
while I crack open a couple of beers.

It’s a good plan. It’s a good, use the good plan. Use the good plan.

The Good Plan originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

In reverence and awe,
in ignorance and bliss,
you fall on your face
in front of a mirror
and call it god.

Can you recall a time
with your kinetics slack,
the agonizing cry,
the fire in your chest,
a heart attack.

Reverence originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

May the angel of death watch over you
on your trek to the dark side of the moon.
All of your friends have already left
with the angel of death.

The Angel of Death originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

There are too many days and too many long nights
between here and now and the rest of my life.
All of these songs are meant to fill the silence,
but they just remind me of your voice.

I am used to these streets that stretch between us
like telephone cords wrapped around my neck.
And the radio wire inside my heart sing signals
that you’re too damn far away.

Is there a remedy for distance, a therapy
for climbing a mountain that never seems to end?

There are Too Many Days originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

I can’t remember your skin.
You’re always half an hour away.
I’d sell all this stuff
if it would be enough
to convince you to stay.

Half originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

Your art is to imitate architects,
to see who can build the strongest.
As if in the penthouse of your regret
you can hold your breath the longesdt.

As if to say now that it’s said and done,
you can tie all the pages together,
hide it where no-one will ever see,
and blame it on the weather.

Art originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

Under the floorboards, the beating hear
of all you’ve forgotten to murder.
You’ve locked all the doors, but the skeletons
are beating their fists all the harder.

If that brilliant smile if your disguise,
you’d best avoid mirrors and water.
Walking through the fire has melted it
to framework and patches of plaster.

Who told you that you were beautiful?
Who said that weakness was pitifull.
That room with no air,
you’ll be so secure there,
awaiting your burial.

Under the Floorboards originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.

When I finally die I hope you cry for a while
and visit me when you can get away.
And when I finally meet my maker’s son
I hope he smiles and says, well done,
well done, well done.

When I finally die I hope you let my body burn
and scatter me all over the front yard.
And when the kingdom comes they gather
every atom back to say, well done,
well done, well done.

And we have a boy I hope you give him all my books,
the ones we didn’t sell to fill the fridge.
And when he reads them he will see
the Jesus of the words. Reading, well done,
well done, well done.

Well Done originally appeared on We Should See Other Blogs on 2009-02-16.