WARNING: SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE

PROCESSING UR TEENS

• WISTFULNESS

• TOUCHING GRASS

• NOSTALGIA

• TEXTING THEM

• PROCESSING UR TEENS • WISTFULNESS • TOUCHING GRASS • NOSTALGIA • TEXTING THEM •

The EP

Daydreams

Please. I’d like to go my speed. A little slower. If you try to escalate, I will go lower. Keep your spark away from me, and I will hide the fuse. I hate that you find me amusing, and I find you a muse. I wish you would get out of my daydreams. It seems that my heart has taken to painting your face into all of my daydreams, while I have to make do with the distance I create from you. There’s a truth and a lie in each daydream. Scenes that all start impossibly because you’d hold me only in a daydream. For now I will make do with what I know to be true. I feel for you, at least like companions do. And now’s not the time, and it’s fine, and I won’t wait in line, I’ll just daydream. I know what to do, but can I do it too? Put up a screen you can’t see through, I expect nothing from you. I’m just saying. Each time when you visit my daydreams, I don’t fall apart, but make up a case as to why I permit you in my daydreams, when you could make do visiting someone new. Go visit someone new.

Ceasefire

I am an inconvenient truth. Honey drips from my hands. But it looks like venom to you, don’t it now? An olive branch in my right hand, and a white flag in my left. You won’t let me say it with my mouth, so I’ll sing it with my chest. Ceasefire. Ceasefire. Neither you nor I can see behind the trenches we’re so deep down inside. Every time you lie I die a little, so I’m calling for a ceasefire. Men are from mars. Your heart fights a war with your head. Dammed up the reservoir. Stuffed your ears with cotton instead. A white flag in my left hand, and an olive branch in my right.

Sing to the Moon

At night I sing to the moon, whispering low about you. If you’re looking up, and the music’s low enough, you can probably hear it too. Last night I sang to the moon, wailing on about lovers past. With their ears to the ground, maybe my voice will carry down and my words will be the last. I don’t know what it means to mend, and I know I won’t hear from you soon. But ‘til then, I’ll tie up my ends, and hang them on the moon. Each night I sing to the moon, stone cold sober and stoned. And I try to catch the sunset on the causeway, ‘cause something has to burn the bridge I won’t.

Deep End

Staring out the window on the highway. I know you grew up in the place where the green signs say I am. And I swore I saw your backyard in the distance. Your dad made you rake the leaves, you said I wouldn’t understand. I don’t watch horror films except when you put on Donny Darko. And you take the empathetic route far less than I do. I was tougher than I looked or at least I thought so. We laughed at monsters in your bed the night you told me that I loved you. And I’m off the deep end, into your deep I went. I’ll tread this water as long as I can stand. It’s not wallowing if it helps me figure out who I am. You called me in, dragged me down, and held me closer so I couldn’t climb out. You called me in, dragged me down, and held me closer so I couldn’t climb out. You called me in, dragged me down, and held me closer so I couldn’t climb out. You called me in, dragged me down, and held me closer so I couldn’t climb out of the deep end. Into your deep I went. I’ll tread this water as long as I can stand. It’s not wallowing if it helps me figure out who I am. It’s not wallowing if it helps me figure out what I want. It’s not wallowing if it helps me to understand him. It’s not wallowing if it helps me to protect my heart from the deep end.