High Tide / Low Light So we sit here waiting for the spark inside the cold remains of hearts scattered parking lots in the dark and oh it feels like idling cars that occupy the furthest spots tucked so discretely in the back but somehow reveal the vacancy so we squint our eyes that we can see just blurring images of that which we can no longer have why do we stare down at the earth like an old and weary bird we try and try to squint and just make out the words but we are blinded by that light and that old bird he loses flight so as we crash into the sea it becomes so oddly comforting to rest our wings and be pulled under rest our wings and sink forget I ever knew the sky forget the spark was ever bright I hid my life beneath the pressure but the moon still pulls on me at night... // Wreck I drove west into sunsets for hours and days and weeks and when I got to the ocean it didn't seem real to me the sky was all purple like getting exactly what you asked for on Christmas as a kid I couldn't believe my eyes and the water rushed up and engulfed me swallowed by years and years of trying and it reached up inside of my chest ripped out my heart and discarded the rest of my body at the end of the pier and I thought about jumping but who the hell would want to die here? I was dragged over sand and cement for thousands of miles and my mouth was full of cavities, empty words pushing through a smile grinding my teeth into cities like building a castle out of sand on the beach and watch it get wrecked by the wavers from the sea the water rushed back and forgot me hollowed by years and years of memories and it reached up inside of my chest ripped out my heart and discarded the rest of my body in the warmth of the sand and I thought about giving up but I woke up in the back of the van I can't seem to shake it everything is dead back home and I can't deny it I'd rather be a wreck than go home and it reached up inside of my chest ripped out my heart and discarded the rest of my body as the cold crept back in and I thought about leaving but the engine is stalling again /// Throwing Punches At A Ghost I keep finding myself spilling guts to strangers in graveyard shifts when it's four degrees at three in the morning and I'm too tired to wonder if I'm counting down to anything or am I just counteracting these stagnant feet in a world that's only spinning cause I've had too much to drink I have wasted so much of my life lying in my bed not sleeping and sitting in my car not driving it's like throwing punches at a ghost when do you stop how could we know it's like throwing punches at a ghost when do you stop how could we know I'm not wasting my life lying in my bed I'm not wasting my life sitting in my car