1. |
Blake 11
03:54
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|
You're gunna be alright kid
we'll just hold your medicine
Give you clothes to wear
and a hospital bed to sleep in
I don't remember much
just faces and such
Told me I had a life worth living
Full of psych ward friends
slit wrists and overdoses
songs on the beach
the elusive word called recovery
baby birds that cannot fly
wanting to live
then wanting to die
Do you ever hold you wrist so hard
you can't feel your hand?
Do you ever look at the stars
and wait for the end?
Do you wanna know what it's like
to get up and fly?
Do you wanna know what it's like
to watch yourself die?
They said all things go
Wrote it down so I'd remember
All things grow
Wrote it down but I forgot.
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2. |
Blake 11 Acoustic
03:10
|
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|
You're gunna be alright kid
we'll just hold your medicine
Give you clothes to wear
and a hospital bed to sleep in
I don't remember much
just faces and such
Told me I had a life worth living
Full of psych ward friends
slit wrists and overdoses
songs on the beach
the elusive word called recovery
baby birds that cannot fly
wanting to live
then wanting to die
Do you ever hold you wrist so hard
you can't feel your hand?
Do you ever look at the stars
and wait for the end?
Do you wanna know what it's like
to get up and fly?
Do you wanna know what it's like
to watch yourself die?
They said all things go
Wrote it down so I'd remember
All things grow
Wrote it down but I forgot.
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3. |
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It started small and fragile
like he shoes we wore when we were young
It started small and fragile
like the breaking of a rabbit's bone
when we cut off its feet
when we cut off its feet
And then it grew to be splints in our shins
as we tried to run
And then it grew
to be asphalt
And then it grew to be asphalt
It swallowed us slowly
just like the snow we walk on with bare feet
It swallowed us slowly
just like our toes in the dirt
Ashes to ashes
the fire keeps us down
We are not sparks that fly into the air
We are the ground beneath the flames
We remain when the fire is gone
Holding the things we lost
holding the things we found
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4. |
Wristband
02:50
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|
skinny wrists hold their secrets
but can't hold wristbands very well.
They clank and clatter on the bones that stick out.
They slide and slip to fingertips.
We joke that this is how I will make my escape.
When I'm finally free I cut the wristband off of me.
Not shackles but jewelry
like the bangles my grandmother wore to Christmas Eve
far too big for her skeleton arm, they weighed her down
and would be lost by the time Jesus was born.
But mine cannot leave so easily.
I hold them between the pages of my history
where they will meet each other.
Not cousins but sisters.
They exchange their stories.
I've seen others hold them like I do.
I even heard of someone wearing them long after they were out.
I could never, though I did go to the drugstore with them on once.
But the woman who checked me out didn't say anything.
A marker, a ticket, a label, turned into an accessory
that says here, I'm wounded
scan me in for my medicine
but now sits between the pages of my history.
Immobilized.
A shelling from the war.
An artifact that proves I was there,
these things happened,
there have not been revisions.
Existing in the lineage.
The precious jewels of a family
that I have inherited.
They slip off my wrists
stick to my skin
distinguish me from the ones who can leave.
That I keep between the pages of my history.
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5. |
Crucify Yourself
04:07
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Crucify yourself
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6. |
Hands in the Dirt
02:32
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I want my skin to be a chronicle of my life
I want it to tell my secrets, bare my shame
I want it to speak my name.
You can't stop my bones from shaking
You can't stop me from swallowing baby birds
You can't stop my hunger from ravaging
I will put my hands in the dirt.
Life is one big transition
Death to life to death
From soil to soil
What's in between is what you make of it.
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