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lyrics

Sing: superstars,
men in bars.
Ride our bicycles into tar.
Or to an island that's far.
Never regret what I
said, or misread.
My skull is dead.
See the icicles drop out of my head.

So why do you come to me in the dark?

Forget what's in my head.
I don't mean anything I sincerely said.
My eyes are a round, mausoleum bed.
Anticipating light.
The light, the light!

Sing: talking head.
My books are dead.
And the page resets what it says.
So why do you come to me in the dark?
Forget what your hands told me.
I don't care about
tightrope doubts,
or the cigarette ash in clouds.
So why do you come to me in the dark?

Sing, sing:
out of your rotting body.
I think that we should all go home.
Maybe, there's a different way
that we can say things to each other softly.

credits

from Skinned Genie and the Same Chords, released August 20, 2016

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Cereal + Sounds Yonkers, New York

music blog = full-time
record label = part-time
eating cereal = all the time

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