I came in from the storm and the television's on.
Celebrities enact fictionalized tales.
How could my boring life compete?
I thought about the drugs,
how I thought they fixed my brain until I was in the dark
rattling containers, scribbling garbage to myself:
I need constant attention of else I'm gonna get distracted
but even if you tell me something I can't guarantee I'm listening.
I hear "BA BA BA BA BA"
I've never been in love but I saw Brian Wilson once.
I was drunk and screamed too loud over the falsetto in "You Still Believe in Me."
And I thought about the way his catastrophes could make everything okay
Until I watched the fire fade and former dayglo embers turned to ashy greys and blacks.
One exhausted triple encore, unplugged bass around his neck.
I know fires don't last forever, but I need to find a match because these days, fuck, I'm tired.
I used to be an awesome listener.
But now I just drift and out or get pulled away by beats and measures
like I don' t have a choice but failure and running from a brighter future.
It's never take me back 'cause I'm not sorry
For all the times I ran away or wasted my vacation days.
It's something I can't bring myself to say.