you know, i don’t know if i know, though some with certainty insist, no certainty exists..

the trap i set for you seems to have caught my leg instead

hear my voice in your head, and think of me kindly

pay no attention to me dancing with my girl, we’ve every intention to be failures in this world

don’t waste your lips on words i’ve heard before, kiss my tired head
and each letter written wastes your hand, young man, come and lead me to your bed 
you gave me hope that i’d not lost her, and then thought it rather strange
to see me smile as i don’t, i don’t do too much of smiling these days.
she put on happiness like a loose dress over pain i’ll never know 
“so the peace you had,” she said, ”i must confess, i’m glad to see it go.” 
we’re two white roses lying frozen, just outside his door 
i’ve made you so happy and so sad, but which should i be more sorry for?
come kiss my face goodbye, that space below my eye and above my cheek 
cause i’m faint and fading fast, and i see a darkness, and i shall be released 
i’ll pass like a fever from this body, and softly slip into his hands 
i tried to love you and i failed, but i have another plan.
how long, my lord, how long to sing this song? 
and my lord, how much more of this pretending to be strong? 
she’ll stand before your throne and dressed in beauty not her own 
all soft and small you’ll hear her call, ”you brought me here now, now take me home.”

call me outside i’ll come running down into your vacant, intoxicating night

in a sweater poorly knit, and an unsuspecting smile
little moses drifts downstream in the nile
a fumbling reply, an awkward rigid laugh
i’m carried helpless by my floating basket raft
your flavor in my mind swings back and forth between sweeter than any wine, and bitter as mustard greens
light and dark as honeydew and pumpernickle bread
the trap i set for you seems to have caught my leg instead
as you plow some other field and try and forget my name, see what harvest yield and supposing i’d do the same
i planted rows of peas but by the first week of july they should have come up to my knees but they were maybe ankle high
take the fingers from your flute to weave your colored yarns, and boil down your fruit to preserves in mason jars
but now books are overdue and the goats are underfed
the trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead
you’re a door-without-a-key, a field-without-a-fence
you made a holy fool of me and i’ve thanked you ever since
and if she comes circling back, we’ll end where we’d begun
like two pennies on the train track the train crushed into one
or if i’m a crown without a king, if i’m a broken, open seed
if i come without a thing, i come with all i need
no boat out in the blue, no place to rest your head
the trap i set for you seems to have caught my leg instead


ps. i hate picking favorites, but this band/song are one 

the music our collisions would make