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| Lyrics I'm putting this here mostly to be a completist, or just in case you really, really, really want to know what I'm mumbling. However, I always write my lyrics to be listened to, not read. The distinction between poetry and lyrics is an important one, and one I think many people miss. Poetry exists in a static state -- the first line is still the first line when you read the last line. Music, however, and by extension, lyrics, exist temporally -- when you hear the first line it exists within the context of the music around it, and when you hear the last line it exists within the context of all the music up to that point. As a result, lyrics are given weight by the music, and a lyric that might not be strong as a piece of non-musical poetry fits perfectly well within the context of the music that supports. In other words, my lyrics suck. The Perfect Fit Stuck Change Some Time, Somewhere Hey You What You Want Another Time But Not Today Make My Way Home Sorry, I Forgot Nervous Morning |
| The Perfect Fit Everything I know about you would Easily, and comfortably fit Inside the very tiny space re- served for the production of my spit And right there you could Hold on steadfastly To those dreams where you Are, full of righteousness, Thinking of me I know you know That we won’t be Anything like What we’ve been That’s okay but Won’t you tell me Why you think I’d Be a friend Everything I’ve seen without you could Open all the doors in all the homes Where mothers tell their children that they Love them before sending them along And right there is where I’m Glad that you won’t be With my kids, the ones who Know, that even though it’s hard You do the right thing |
| Stuck First time's magical, Second time's farcical Third time's tragical, If that's a word I don't know why every- Thing I say comes a- Cross to you as so absurd When the phone's not ringing and I'm All alone, when the machine says that you're Not at home, but your Bedroom lights just flickered on, I know . . . Cause I'm stuh stuh stuh stuh stuck on you I'm stuh stuh stuh stuck I just Don't know what to do. When the birds are singing every- body's bringing little Children playing out in the sun It makes me think that I should really Hire someone to tell me why I'm Always stuck on you. Fourth time's whimsical Fifth time's cynical Six is numerical Three letters long I could sing the first Verse again because Nothing's changed since the Start of the song |
| Change Oh no, what am I gonna do When the aftermath comes down Writes a history on my face for them? Uh oh, what if I mess up And forget my favorite lines? Maybe I'll go home and write more, just in case But tonight I'm gonna stay And hang around for a while I've never seen so many reasons for me to Break out of this little shell Just think about about the last time When I went in unprepared All the looks and unkind stares from them Of course, nothing really occurred Because I stayed at home instead I didn't want to take a chance for once I want to see myself with scornful eyes And realize that it's not my fault I need to justify this fear against the real |
| Some Time, Somewhere Once we gave to eachother Time existed to relieve Ourselves of mystery We only looked at nice things Blinded by our preference Choosing just to be Was it this or was it that You saw in me? Either way, it's all the same Eventually Some time, somewhere I knew all of you Some time, somewhere Seems so far away Once we went from eachother Time existed to enshrowd Ourselves in mystery We only looked at nothing Blinded by our history Hoping not to see Was it this or was it that You saw in me? Either way, it's all the same Eventually Some time, somewhere I knew all of you Some time, somewhere Seems so far away Something golden, something pure Existing only in Naïve parts of me Sees the time it takes to make A lifetime with you And wants it to be Was it this or was it that You saw in me? Either way, it's all the same Eventually Some time, somewhere I knew all of you Some time, somewhere Seems so far away |
| Make My Way Home I can't wait until I get to Heaven I can't wait until my dying day, when I Meet my Jesus, see him face to face And when the trumpet sounds I can Finally make my way home. |
| Nervous Morning (ha ha, it's an instrumental, get it? lollies.) |