get the fuck out

get the fuck out of my life
leave before I make you leave
I got a gun and I know how to use it
I know how to use it
you better believe
get the fuck away from me
before I do something 
we both retreat
it's a bona  fide miracle of miracles
I haven't shot you dead yet
get the fuck out
goddamn you 
get the fuck out

refill

I've looked in all the usual places
the unusual places, too
I've searched my apartment over
and I don't know what to do
I know they're here somewhere
but where, I don't have a clue
where's my refill
of antidepressants

full of ideas

I am full of ideas
they overrun my brain
so I take a little pill
so I can feel less pain
and if I feel more pain
and is its wont and will
I get the idea
to take another little pill

following me

no matter where I go
no matter what I do
no matter what I say
it's following me
it's there when I sleep
awake the whole day through
not looking at you
it's following me

          and it does its very hardest
          and it does its very best
          bitter is the harvest
          and there's no time for rest

a black cloud above
a black hole below
a black crow cries
it's following me
where I am going
I have no way to know
I try to outrun but
it's following me

          and it does its very hardest
          and it does its very best
          bitter is the harvest
          and there's no time for rest

no matter where I go
no matter what I do
no matter what I say
it's following me

plans

I got some big plans
they take up space in my heard
and refuse to leave

Keeping the wheels greased

I don't know what I'm doing lately, man. I just don't feel like writing. I mean, I still write and shit, I wrote every fuckin' day. But, I don't know, it's not there right now. It's not really a writer's block; I just don't feel like writing.

So why don't you just take a little time off writing for a while, farmboy? I know you're also doing some other things in your life. I know you're practicing a lot more than usual.

Yeah, but I don't think it's too much to ask myself to do a little writing every day. It makes me feel accomplished, but more importantly, it makes it easier to write if you're practiced. It's like playing a musical instrument or physical therapy. It all culminates, you know.

What are your instincts telling you to do?

Oh, my instinct is to continue writing. The trick is, how do I get back to enjoying it again?

Do you have subjects to write about, farmboy? 

There are always subjects to write about, man. But there ain't nothing insisting to be written. I don't know. I know I do need to let it come naturally, I can't force it.

So just relax a little bit. You can always write a poem, a haiku...

I've been doing that a lot, actually. There's a lot of little writing I've been doing to make sure I continue. 

I think that's good, farmboy.  I think any writing you do is good.

Keeping the wheels greased.

That's one way to look at it.

I just gotta keep doing it without putting too much pressure on myself. I just need to relax, I think. Or maybe lower my standards.

beware of the past

all things come to those that wait
is an old cliche I've learned to hate
I never did appreciate
being lied to
'cause I've been waiting all these years
to find some way to stop these tears
in the end, they're only souvenirs
that you leave far behind you

beware of the past
it will tell you lies
it knows all your fears
and you'll disappear
as it cuts you down to size
beware of the past
its phony afterglow
it'll make you weak
till you can't even speak
and there's nowhere left to go
beware of the past

same old town

man, there ain't nothing to do
and no one who to do it with
it's the same old town I always knew
it can't changed even a little bit

when summer goes

the long days are fading
the kids are riding their bikes home
earlier and earlier
you can see the shadows
under the wheels
when summer goes
it doesn't announce itself
autumn slides
like it's stealing third base

you will always find a way

when you're working hard 
and nothing seems to happen
and your heart's filled with despair
find yourself a corner and
practice good self-care
breathe deep breaths
and just stay calm
you've always known 
what side you're on
it's okay
I know you will always find a way

my electric fan

my electric fan
is saving my life again
maybe I can sleep

I was walking home

I was walking home
in the blistering sun
thinking 'bout all
that needed to be done
there were orders and borders
and misery hoarders
but I was not to be found
everywhere they looked for me
every time they turned around
I was gone
I was free
ain't no one
could capture me
and all I was doing was being alone
I was walking
I was walking home

anvil

I wear my depression
like an anvil around my chest
it grows heavier and heavier
and though I try my best
it weighs me down
it weighs me down
I wear my depression
like a collar around my neck
it grows tighter and tighter
with the shame of disrespect
it weighs me down
it weighs me down

          take these stones
          and lay them still
          people will do
          what people will
          from the day I was born
          till they lay me in the ground
          it weighs me down
          it weighs me down

time

I don't want to play your games
I'm not that kind of guy
the truth always gets in my way
when I start to lie
so let me be the man I am
and it will be fine
all we need is time
all we need is time

I'm no good at cheating
I'm used to being honest
but everything is falling down
as broken as your promise
I don't know how to fix it
but here's what I have in mind
all we need is time
all we need is time

staying the same

they found me
face down on the bathroom floor
and the ambulance finally came
and now I'm back
and I'm begging for more
and the hunger still remains
over and over I cry
over and over I try
I'm trying hard to change
but I'm staying the same

I keep walking

step after step after step
one foot in front and one in back
step after step after step
a little less risk of heart attack
I'm still moving
I'm still choosing
to breathe each breath I have
when my mind wants to say
you should just stay away
I throw back my head and laugh
and I keep walking
I keep walking

water dries

I know this man
he works for the state
he tends to the land
with a shovel and a rake, and he
works in the sunshine
but sometimes
the raindrops they fall on his head
now me, I'd be cussing and crying
and wishing I was dead
but he pays it no never mind
he just leaves the rain behind
he says:

          water dries
          the skies, they clear
          water flies
          into the atmosphere
          water dries
          it ain't no crime
          everything changes
          with the passing of time

voices

goddamn these voices in my head
goddamn what they tell me to do
it's like satan's dart
went right through my heart
and turned every falsehood to true
I am hopeless under your power
I'm not worthy of a clue
all these voices in my head
every one is you

reading the news

I get ready
I take my time
in returning
to the scene of the crime
I've got all
I'm going to need
an adult beverage
organic weed
my guitar in case
I need to write the blues
don't try to stop me
I'm going in
I'm reading the news

every morning
I know what to say
what the fuck 
did he do today
hey hey
it's diabolic
it's so absurd
and somehow I'm
hanging on every word
don't bet on me
I'm not win or lose
say a prayer for me
don't ignore me
I'm reading the news

          is it such a crime
          that the New York Times
          holds such sweet allure
          I know it's frightening
          it's like greased lightning 
          so effortless and sure

ain't it magic
ain't it strange
when life is tragic
we refuse to change
I sit in comfort
inside my home
Ikea furniture
packed in styrofoam
I got my sources
of which I choose
don't try to stop me
I'm going in
I'm reading the news

every single night

every single night
I pray for guidance from you
I'm still here waiting

constant

I am not constant
today I'll be an eagle
tomorrow, the hawk

weather report

summer days are long
when temperatures hit ninety
and above all week

backpack

everywhere I go
everyone I know
has a backpack on their back
and I don't know what's inside
but there's one thing that's true
I want a backpack too

blueprint

make me a plan
draw me a blueprint
include the instructions
when you step on my heart
I don't need big letters
on billboards or newsprint
just give me a clue
of where I should start

          I may require lessons
          for breaking up with you
          you could be my teacher
          no one else will do

somehow I got old, verse one

I don't know what happened
never got life's instruction book 
but time just kept on marching
while I forgot to take a look
I could give you lots of reasons
but, fact is, truth be told
I don't know when it happened
but somehow I got old

somehow I grew old

I don't know when it happened
but somehow I grew old

these summer days

staring at the ceiling fan
from below
watch it go
around and around 
and around some more
like it don't know what
it's moving for
but it's moving in the proper way
for these summer days

sitting on a front porch
don't matter when
beer with friends
one more, one more
and another drink
nobody cares 
what you think
but you say it anyway
on these summer days

not yet time

not yet time to sleep
I'll be creative with time
imagination

godforsaken truth

there are facts
and there are figures
then there's the godforsaken truth
all those times
when you were with her
in the wet dreams of your youth