I was listening to the bleeding edge of emo before emo was cool. Can you tell?

The cut is deep and the gash is wide.
Oh my soul, what have I done to you?
I thought this parting would burn inside,
but I never knew. I never knew.
With all deliberate speed I will run away.
Deny myself the need, let it get away.
This is the curse of heart made to beat
with all deliberate speed.

The gully’s long and the gulf is wide.
Oh dear heart, I never meant to be
so complicated and full of pride.
But guess you see. Yes, you see.
With all my fairy tales I will run away.
If my vision fails I will crawl away.
This is the curse of a head made to ache
with all deliberate speed.

The fall is here and the call is long.
Oh your voice. Good to hear it again.
I thought you’d conquer. I know you’re strong.
Are you happy, then? Happy again?
With all deliberate words I will let you down.
But were those tears I heard or just another frown?

Call it theft or murder, it isn’t right to say.
Call it cruel to hurt her in such deliberate ways.
But I mean to cut not kill.
Blame the coffee, the lack of skill.
I won’t foot the bill. I don’t fit the bill.

The space between in the place we mean
to atone for the damage done.
This is my pardon. I killed the queen,
but you bought the gun. I’m not the one.
With all deliberate speed I will run away.
Deny what I have seen, let it get away.
This is the curse of mind made to race
at all deliberate speed.

The end has come. I will send you some
of my thoughts and my new-found view.
I’m not so perfect but not so dumb
to return to you. I learned from you.
With all deliberate speed I will fall away.
Call it vice. I call it a holiday.
This is the last song I write for you
and your deliberate speed.

The pain and the silence. The stain of the violence.
Goodbye. I never meant to be yours.

This one is actually painful to write out. I questioned actually letting it loose on the internet due to its almost comically serious and heavy-handed metaphor and simile and hyperbole. It’s basically a pastiche of all that can go wrong in a song.

Here comes the confrontation. It’s coffee or a shootout.
First one to kill the other gets a free ride out.
Here comes the termination. Inclusion or the boot out.
First one to love the other is the last to doubt.

I can’t believe this town but I can’t leave this town.
I’ll come in with a sixgun and go out in a blaze of glory,
if you’ll tell all your children. Tell it to your children.
It’s my amazing story, how the west was won.

Here comes the quick incision. We’ll tell lies to eachother.
But I won’t dare to call you. I’m afraid of myself.
I’ll make the snap decision. A knee-jerk or another.
My reflexes befall us. Are you happy now?

I can’t believe this town but I can’t leave this town.
I’ll come in with a sixgun and go out without saying sorry,
if you’ll hide all my ruins in the attic, from your children.
It’s my amazing story, how the west was won.

I remember the circumstances surrounding this song just vaguely, and probably would have forgotten them save for these lyrics. Which is just as well; my songs are a much a part of my narrative as anything else I’ve written. By the way, this one was circa 2001.

Today I heard you were in Toronto, a half an hour away.
Today I spent doing all of nothing. Another wasted day.
Today I pushed you into my memory. It’s so hard to say,
but it must be said.

When I fall in love again, then I’ll forget the way
I gave up all that I was to be with you.

Today I missed you. I cried about you. Tears that should be hid.
I can’t forget the fatal failure that I can never rid.
Tell me someday what went wrong, girl. Tell me what I did.
Oh, it must be said.

When I fall in love again, I pray remember me,
telling yourself to be content. It was good.

Today I think that you might be lonely, but that’s the difference, dear.
You can’t look forward to be, but only because I won’t be here.
And maybe you could try to phone me, but I’ll be gone, I fear.
With someone else. With someone else, and not with you.

And when I fall in love again they’ll tell me it’s too soon,
but it’s not. But it’s not.
And when the sun falls off the sea they say you’ll be my moon,
but you won’t. But you won’t.
And when the note I wrote is wrong they play your stupid tune,
telling me not to forget you.
It’s too late.

And when I come around again I might have forgotten you.
And when I do does it bother you? It bothers me too.
I’m amnesiac. I forgot to say hello.

Today I saw you and now I wonder what I used to see.
Forgive me for the colossal blunder. For ancient history.
For those delusions that you love under. For that grand fallacy.
It must be sad.

Honour your wings. Lie on the clouds. Watch how the world spins dizzy.
Frequent the poles of telegraph wires. Make sure they get the message.
Spin the axis of my thoughts again.
History and future twist and bend.

Honour your neck, honour your heart, see how they both conspire,
to steal you away in three-quarter time. To flow into the gutter.
Frozen blink and you are trailing chain.
Change of states and you are not mundane.

You are bayoneting my love through and through.
You’re abetting my poetic justice.

Honour the gun. Feel how it weighs. Cold held in even colder.
Frequent the words you didn’t complete. Wish you could send a message.
Ragdoll axis, I am falling free.
While your grip is killing, killing me.

I was coming back with the smoking gun
when you saw my hand, knew what I had done.
and you told me to, you told me to get out.

You were coming back. You had tried so hard.
Then I turned the key, but the door was barred.
And you told me to, you told me to stay out.

I’ve forgiven you, though it is not your fault
that I razed the town, and sowed it with salt.
And I hope you can, I hope you can grow back.

Now I love a girl with a different face,
and you’ve disappeared without a trace.
And I say goodbye, I say goodbye tonight.

This one I like, mostly because it was grafted into my later relationship with Laura. I can’t even remember who I wrote it to, now.

Grab a mug of coffee and remember me.
I am so fragile, more like the china than the coffee.

Brew a cup of tea so you’ll remember me.
I’m the mad hatter. I’m crazy about you.

But I’m always late for something, with no remedy.
I’m the white rabbit. Will you chase after me?

Will you ever re-appear here?
Watch all but my smile disappear.
I’m the Cheshire cat. Can you handle that?

Let’s get together and talk about these things.
Shingles and ceiling wax. Cabbages and kings.

And maybe shed a tear. I can see it gleam.
Seems I’m resigned to it. It’s the end of the dream.

Will you ever re-appear here?
Watch all but my smile disappear.
I’m the Cheshire cat. Can you handle that?

Today I chanced to glance in my looking glass.
There you were standing, saying, dance with me.

But memory is precious, and I dare not pass.
Romance so fleeting, but my grin is in the glass.

Will you ever re-appear, dear?
Watch all but my smile disappear.
I’m the Cheshire cat. Can you handle that?

Will we ever re-appear here?
Watch all but the smiles disappear.
We are Cheshire cats and we can’t find eachother.
Light a candle on your hat. I can handle that.

I think the spirit of Coldplay inhabited my body whist this tune spewed forth. The title is a pun on an old girlfriend’s name, which is pretty much the only clever thing about this.

Oh, all I wanted you to do was tell me only what was true.
Oh, all I wanted you say was, “We’ve got a problem, baby,
so let’s figure this one out.”

It’s another gloomy Sunday without you.
Look at the sunshine and the snow, oh, what to do?
I hate it when it’s cold. I hate it when you’re cold.
Just say it. I can take it. Just say it. We can make it.

Oh, all I wanted you to do was tell me only what was true.
Oh, all I wanted you say was, “We’ve got a problem, baby,
so let’s figure this one out.”

It’s another stupid question in my mind.
If you were me you ask the same one: “Why?”
I hate it when you’re cold, when you won’t let me know.
Just say it. I can take it. Don’t break it. We won’t make it.

Oh, all I wanted you to do was tell me only what was true.
Oh, all I wanted you say was, “We’ve got a problem, baby,
so let’s figure this one out.”

It’s another philosophic questionaire.
My twenty answers tell the word that I don’t care.
I hate it when I’m cold. The feeling’s getting old.
I hate it. But I won’t break it. I’ll fake it and we won’t make it.

Oh, all I wanted you to do was act as if you loved me too.
Oh, all I wanted you to say was, “We’ve got a problem, baby,
so let’s figure this one out.”

Well, we’ve got a problem, baby,
and it’s my turn to doubt.

This one I actually recorded. It’s better, but still not up to snuff.

Your horse is moving up and down but mine is not.
You ask me how that feels, well, today it’s not so hot.
I’m always stationary and you don’t want to read me,
and now reactionary, I’ll write the words discreetly:

Dear heart, goodbye, goodbye.

You want a call but I can’t bear to sit and talk.
I’d spill my guts for Sixpence and a thirty minute walk.
I’m always lacking vision. The feeling seems so dumb, now,
and all the indecision will make us sour somehow.

Dear hear, I’ll rip you apart. I doubt that this will work out.
I doubt myself. I’ve never doubted you. Goodbye, goodbye.

If I let this die would I be guilty of, would I feel awful for the stain.
Is this what everyone calls love, to hate to cause somebody pain?

Your horse is dancing, best intentions at the wake.
Oh lovely heart, was this a grave mistake to make?
I’m always so confusing, but I am wounded deeply
a hurt not of my choosing, that you would only keep me
sometimes.

If I let you back would I be guilty of, would I know my trespass then?
Is this what everyone calls love, to leave and not come back again?

I’m far from here but you have barely left the gate.
Oh lovely heart, a lifetimes not so long to wait.
I’m always here to talk to, but I am gone forever.
Anyone, but not you. You can see it in the letters:

Dear heart, I’ll rip you apart. I doubt that this will work out.
I doubt myself, I’ve never doubted you. Goodbye, goodbye,
goodbye.

Another old song I just dug up. Not my favourite, but I’m going to rework this bad boy.

Sometimes I fall. Sometimes I can’t get up.
Sometimes I crawl, always left feeling stuck.
Sometimes I know, but mostly I’m confused.
Will the madness never end? Will the transient befriend
the holiness that he can see but hardly understand?

Sometimes I rise. Sometimes I hit the waves.
Sometimes surprised but most of the time afraid.
Sometimes I see, but mostly flying blind.
Will the deadness never dies? Will the madness always lie
below this skin? It’s thin and I can barely understand.

Sometimes I sink, lungs full of holy air.
Sometimes I think that maybe you won’t be there.
Sometime you come, but mostly I’m alone.
Will perception be the lamp showing angels round the camo?
Protection I’m afraid that I will never comprehend.

But if you aren’t a liar, and if I’m not a fool,
would you be my desire, and could I be your tool?
And I’m not a halfwit, and if you’re not unclear,
I can’t believe that you’re gone and I’m left standing here.
Come and calm the fear.

Sometimes I grin. Sometime I know your love.
Sometimes I win what I’ve been dreaming of.
Sometimes I pray that you will come again,
bring the madness to an end, let the sojourner befriend
that only thing he wants to know but hardly understands.

I was no Trent Reznor, that’s for sure. Please excuse the amateurishness of this post, I wrote it when I was a mere child.

It hurts to be alive. Sometimes I can’t wake up, it seems.
Some days I drive and drive but this road only leads to dreams.
And I can’t be sure it’s real; have I gotten past the peel?
Am I ever going to know?

I’ve got the marks to prove, I pinched until I broke the skin,
and time cannot remove the scars I left behind again.
I’ve got the baggage in my trunk from another ship that sunk.
Am I ever going to know?

And I will wrestle with the thought,
’cause I think it’s all I’ve got
left to keep.
And I will hunt myself until
I finally catch my will
and I sleep.

It hurts to be alone. I’d give myself for love, and rice.
But I’m frozen to the bone, and far too poor to pay the price.
They’re staring at me strange, as I’m looking for some change.
Didn’t they say that change is good?

So maybe I’ll admit I’m waiting for the ache to fade,
and I want to breathe a bit before the next mistake is made.
But I know which one I’ll choose, and the dignity I’ll lose.
Do I really want to know?

And I will wrestle with the plot
till I find out if I’m not
supposed to see.
And I will hunt you down until
you tell if you will
hunt for me.

But I want to know
if this is what I need.