The Weakerthans : Aside.
There is nothing I want more than to be able to read you. It is a skill that I was never able to aquire.
Being in Cincinnati this weekend was actually nice. I feel like I don't know some of my friends anymore, but I seemed to be welcomed home with open arms, or at least I hope so. I'm sure I haven't been the best of friends to my friends at home, but I sincerely apologize. I had to get out for the sake of my sanity. It did some good but it also did some damage. I thought absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder.
Measure me in metered lines and one decisive stare. The time it takes to get from here to there. My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free. I'm unconsoled. I'm lonely. I am so much better than I used to be. Terrified of telephones and shopping malls and knives, drowning in the pools of other lives. Rely a bit too heavily on alcohol and irony. Get clobbered on by courtesy. In love with love and lousy poetry. And I'm leaning on this broken fence between past and present tense. And I'm losing all those stupid games that I swore I'd never play. But it almost feels okay. Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty, armed with every precious failure and amateur cartography. I'm breathing deep before I spread those maps out on my bedroom floor. And I'm leaning on this broken fence between past and present tense. And I'm losing all those stupid games that I swore I'd never play. But it feels okay. And I'm leaving with goodbye and I'm losing but I'll try with the last ways left to remember sing my imperfect offering.
There is nothing I want more than to be able to read you. It is a skill that I was never able to aquire.
Being in Cincinnati this weekend was actually nice. I feel like I don't know some of my friends anymore, but I seemed to be welcomed home with open arms, or at least I hope so. I'm sure I haven't been the best of friends to my friends at home, but I sincerely apologize. I had to get out for the sake of my sanity. It did some good but it also did some damage. I thought absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder.
Measure me in metered lines and one decisive stare. The time it takes to get from here to there. My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free. I'm unconsoled. I'm lonely. I am so much better than I used to be. Terrified of telephones and shopping malls and knives, drowning in the pools of other lives. Rely a bit too heavily on alcohol and irony. Get clobbered on by courtesy. In love with love and lousy poetry. And I'm leaning on this broken fence between past and present tense. And I'm losing all those stupid games that I swore I'd never play. But it almost feels okay. Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty, armed with every precious failure and amateur cartography. I'm breathing deep before I spread those maps out on my bedroom floor. And I'm leaning on this broken fence between past and present tense. And I'm losing all those stupid games that I swore I'd never play. But it feels okay. And I'm leaving with goodbye and I'm losing but I'll try with the last ways left to remember sing my imperfect offering.
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