1. |
eyes closed
01:21
|
|||
eyes closed, im thinking of you again
i know, just a few more short weeks, my friend
hug a pillow, i miss your warmth again
eyes closed
|
||||
2. |
huh?
02:22
|
|||
what am i doing here?
and do i love it?
should i make it clear, im running at it?
not much left of me here, or of my brain
don’t want to do the same shit again
|
||||
3. |
goodnight text
01:48
|
|||
hey baby, i cut my hair again
hey darling, i miss your face again
but it’s okay, three weeks away
it’s alright, no need to fight
|
||||
4. |
restart
01:06
|
|||
first time singing in days
i cope in different ways
don’t need to say it, but i miss your face
first time singing in days
|
||||
5. |
kinda
01:23
|
|||
kinda horny, kinda sleepy
kinda hoping that you’ll miss me
|
||||
6. |
synthesis
01:05
|
|||
7. |
today sucks
00:34
|
|||
i know today sucks, but i love you
i know today sucks, but i love you
(burp)
|
||||
8. |
day 22
00:44
|
|||
9. |
galgebra
01:30
|
|||
my knees are shaky, my arms are weak
im far too anxious to go to sleep my
shoulders they twitch and my stomach it’ll
freeze, tell me how to live at ease
you have a routine, you have a means to rest
relax your tense body, lay yourself down flat
|
||||
10. |
3-20
01:29
|
|||
turn the lights out, get comfy
put the phone down, brush your teeth
you can do this, probably
still have faith or at least
a smidge
|
||||
11. |
waiting
01:06
|
|||
guess i'll wait, guess i'll wait, guess i'll wait for you
|
||||
12. |
hypocrite
03:22
|
|||
fuck these feelings of never ending loneliness,
all i hope is i'm gonna grow with it
when you say you’re lonely what does that mean you’d sign up for?
when you say you want me does that mean you’ll open your door?
love aint shit but still i want it
love aint shit but still i want it
know he’s better off knowing nothing, know i'm better off saying nothing
i aint shit either, i don’t know shit
i aint shit either, i don’t know shit
want to know how it feels again
to be alone and naked with
someone who sees every bit,
someone who loves every inch
love ain’t shit but still i want it, treat it as a cure-all for this
misdirected love for myself, easier to give to somebody else
|
queer choir Boston, Massachusetts
writing as i play, playing as i write. strums the strums and hums the hums.
they/he
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