1. |
||||
|
angels guard your pale yellow house
and i hear them now
|
||||
2. |
Bookmarks
01:25
|
|||
|
you remind me try to get lost
where everyone can find us
forget the bookmark
no one reminds us
two puzzle pieces
sucked into the
vacuum cleaner
impossible to make the image
eyes closed
you can't see us
they're all tripping
over our backpacks
we left a trail to follow
that leads them off
the map's path
we aren't missing
signs are misleading
alone (& always with you)
alone (& living too)
you remind me try to get lost
where everyone
can find us
forget the bookmark
no one reminds us
(no one reminds us)
|
||||
3. |
Bookmarked
04:25
|
|||
|
you look around
i'm looking up
you have no heart
i've got no guts
you're giving in
and giving in
we spill a gallon
we drain a cup
they take me home
you pick me up
there's nothing in the
garbage can i emptied
it out just last week
there's nothing in
my mouth my kisses
have been transferred digitally
the blue whale
the baleen
the youtube links
i texted you
i know you're busy
but
i also know that that's
not true
i know you're busy
but
this is ridiculous
i know that you're busy
but
i don't think that
you'd miss this
i know you're busy
i know you'd never
lie to me
i know you'd
lie to me
|
||||
4. |
Painted Horses
03:07
|
|||
|
five frames left, hanging in the gallery, wishing they were windows
ransom note with a price and a quote
goodbye, painted horses
|
||||
5. |
Pray for a Snowday
01:12
|
|||
|
tired eyes whine at me time for a nap
they yell, but sleep is still out running laps
snapping up closed, and i’m driving towards crash, dozing off, snoozing, a fast lane disaster
feeling machine run by string pulling men
giving up sleep for lent again
eyes whisper “please,” but sleep’s mind is wracked
i have nothing to pray cos my songs have been halved
gear shifting down from passive to “God, please let me last that’s all i ask”
don’t talk to me about the weather
tickle my tummy
the monster’s nose is runny
february
february
rah rah rah
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
zero and zero
no strikeouts with an era of nothing
(the best defense and the worst offense)
no strikeouts with an era of nothing
can't hit what you don't pitch
can't score when you don't run
can't hit what you don't pitch
can't play if no one comes
can't hit what you don't pitch
can't score when you don't run
can't make errors if you don't try
can't play if no one comes
never be as bad as when you first got the news
never be as bad as when you, when you first got the news
does this not seem true
remember
this year
isn't going to last
for eight years
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
i've been losing faith in this place
the grass was greener on the other side of this race
there's no crying in baseball
we're undefeated in throwing our games
tied our cleats together
tripped over foul balls
the catcher signals
but the pitcher
ignores it all
there's no crying in baseball
we're undefeated in throwing our games
looking for a reason
to field our plays
if we're not above giving up five runs
looking for a reason
to steal third base
if we're not above giving up ten runs
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
you stole a lesson from the internet
i stole detergent from the laundromat
you stuck your fists in the collection basket and grabbed two handfuls of cash
but you’re not a bad man
there’s a bad hand inside every son
you’re not a bad son
there’s a bright light inside everyone
praise the lord
bless his name
we’re stealing and lying and cussing
we praise him the same
you stole the fireman’s hat from his head
i hotwired yr ferrari thats red
you stole a look from the side of yr eye at someone who wouldn’t’ve let ya
but you’re not a bad man
there's a bad hand inside every son
you’re not a bad son
there’s a bright light inside everyone
and the thief gets an extra ten gold
and if his level’s high enough he gets a reroll
but the wizard and cleric and warriors and elves
they’re thieves too
(and so are you)
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
you feed us lunches,
teach us numbers
you teach us lunches,
feed us numbers
by the bunches
love is abundant
|
||||
10. |
Christmas Song
00:58
|
|||
|
angels guard your pale yellow house
and i hear their trumpets now
we read it all in the sunday comics
fairy lights in church basements
dad's sweater around my throat
can't scratch the image out of my head
|
||||
Toast Ghost Falls Church, Virginia
Home of Toast Ghost, records and tapes and CDs of Toast Ghost and friends.
Toast Ghost recommends:
cats, beats.
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