Sketching in pen Ten cigarettes on a Thursday It’s 4AM The next week And you think you’re beautiful And the people stare Air comes in but you stopped singing two whole years ago I remember who I wrote it down I remember you told me I remember who I wrote it down I remember you told me I’d write songs about this Look at me now dear Tucked behind a green room With the company of an exhale The consolation of a job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Sketching in pen Ten cigarettes on a Thursday It’s 4AM The next week

As the night falls like raindrops Tearing through the seem of a car window I carry my pain Up 13th street to some party in Oakland Looking for something loud enough to drown out the blistering silence weeping in the wrist of a break up My imagination is running Like mascara down the face of the girl I left back home Wondering if my last chance at love is a blocked phone number I’m way too scared to call Because she might get me to stay Heart still a cracked portrait of dust Collecting in the spaces between my fingers I hang a wet coat of loneliness on the hook of a song I haven't heard before Hoping to gag the leaky faucet in my chest with second hand smoke and bad decisions High off the blood red needles on the volume meter I’m dancing In a crowd of mistakes that will be made in the next few hours thinking I'm ready to go When your arms cascade over my head Like a waterfall of dying halos Rest on my shoulders the way a crow watches the opening credits to a bad storm perched on a telephone wire My hands sow themselves to your hips Like a mother sows a seed in a burning sanctuary the night before a rapture I wear your body like a chain A mother tells her son not to show off In a neighborhood like this. Beads of holy water bloom from our skin. Your hips Shaped like a glass of hours I want to spend talking to you under the moonlight sometime Sway Like a gorgeous chandelier swinging from the neck of a walking earthquake My soul covered the floor in breaths I lost the moment you said “You’re a really good dancer” I think you meant actor I think my voice is the type of silence that you cry to I think your eyes are a bullet wounds silhouette Drowning in a pool of white lies I keep telling myself I keep telling myself only fools fall in love And mama didn't raise no fool But can we just roll with the feeling Can we roll out for a minute When my thoughts can't breathe My palms are a rotting graveyard of faces And tears I buried with the dirt off my shoulder You asked me if I would feel better if we kissed Deeper than breath Lips locked like eyes from across the room Tongue between teeth Like a shotgun barrel And if I kissed you tonight It would probably start a riot in Oakland So let's try

Entre cuerdas contemplando un dulce placer Entre camas disfrutando como niños de luna de miel Cuerpos enredados Piernas en guerra Cuerpos enredados Piernas en guerra Dulce batalla Dulce batalla

We'll make it through the winter

You kicked the snow with the sole of your boot And drew a smile I could only see from the tenth floor We kissed three years later And the hair stood on the back of my neck I kissed a woman farewell and felt I owned her Clenching my teeth Noticing the loss made all the difference I’m slanted in a chair Sleep deprived, malnourished, and overweight I’d kiss my own reflection if I cared enough, but I don’t dare A breath A beat A breath A beat A human wakes up and says “Done deal - I’m going to make a change” Never-mind the sun shines for no one Change happens everyday I kept your correspondence until you became too ill And sent you boxes with snacks And your favorite carton of menthols The way you used to smile through the haze Over coffee And now it’s A breath A beat A breath A beat

Sketching in pen Ten cigarettes on a Thursday It’s 4AM The next week And you think you’re beautiful And the people stare Air comes in but you stopped singing two whole years ago I remember who I wrote it down I remember you told me I remember who I wrote it down I remember you told me I’d write songs about this Look at me now dear Tucked behind a green room With the company of an exhale The consolation of a job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Another one ready to burn A job well done Sketching in pen Ten cigarettes on a Thursday It’s 4AM The next week