sometimes it's better not to say anything.

and maybe just listen to the strokes...


you want to be cool,
but cool people don't think...

i've got problems too

it's not just me standing there in black
with the wind blowing through me
and that dark look on my face


i'm somebody

snow blanketing the hard ground

and laying thick on my car


i'm not sure how i feel about that...

the voice like an old, persistent motor
was rattling on, never dying
and he was listening, listening, listening
and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming
the words
if they meant anything
he couldn't tell you what
he could tell you that if was hot
and stiff and stuffy
and the air was thick
and the walls were closing in
around him
the ceiling was falling down
on top of him
but he could see outside
the deep, dark sky
and the sharp, piercing stars
and feel the cool, night breeze
as it flew through the trees
running through the wet grass
that motor never dying behind him
sputtering
if there was a river rushing fast
with the full moon hanging low over it
he would jump in
and cause more than a ripple
less than a wave
and swim to the other side
and pull himself out
the water dripping off his skin
he might lie on the shore
and look up at the sky
see a fast falling star
and make a wish.

weekend's almost over... but it was good... too short







tomorrow never knows.

if only tonight we could sleep

in a bed made of flowers

if only tonight we could fall

in a deathless spell

if only tonight we could slide

into deep, black water 

and breathe...

and breathe...

then an angel would come

with burning eyes like stars 

and bury us deep

in his velvet arms 

and the rain would cry

as our faces slipped away

and the rain would cry

don't let it end...

-Robert Smith aka the Cure 

elliot smith: always good on a cold, frosty morning in October...

i am cornered in my soul,
sleeping
wake me up



she wanted me to anaylze
what is that?

analyze my soul if you will
and tell me what you find