My old self’s a blackened heart
And my old self is gone
If ever I was content with that heart
I take it back, it’s withdrawn.
If ever I thought I was in control
And pretended that I could tell
I’m sorry for that ignorance
And now a new hope in me dwells
My old self died in a long tough battle
My new self’s now intact
I wonder not what happens now
Being that I’ll never go back
pop up in the strangest places,
like on my key ring
in the form of a rewards card
with lamination receding
from every corner,
opening the way
for putrid, green filth
to work towards the center;
and it might be mold,
or it might be green ear wax;
it really looks like boogers,
and kind of like rancid baby poop,
and it’s just disgusting.
and all the while,
that has been in my oblivious pocket.
in hills like these
we wait for sun
to semi-peak through clouds
knowing now
these lost people
dwell in mud-built homes
we come and play
where they work
joy fills us in their fields
the sweat on their brow
the same as ours
though brought through toil not cheer
today i came
i saw i conquered
and left you here to farm
i hope someday
that i’ll be back
and bring you love you cant ignore
I stand inside your
halls of dirt and wonder
at the processes which
bring me here
All the cash is gone
three states away and
yet, here I stand, among
hollowed pockets in these
unhallowed halls of dirt
the stench is thick but
I cover my face with
a fresh, clean T-shirt
(poly-cotton blend)
as I stand in your lines
and I count the ways
that every fucking dime
I leave with you could
drop so easily in a Coinstar
machine, or slide quite
neatly in to my piggy bank
But no,
you’ll take care
of the banking
for me
Here in your halls of
dirt, I stand and wonder,
but I smile. After unfolding
bills and signing paper
I will go back to my shitty car
and drive it to a basement show
and then I’ll play some guitar
and you know, you can’t
charge me in guitars. The rest
is only money. Dig deep
the pit you put it in,
here in your halls of dirt
