Just when I start to believe all the things you say to me, you promise, and I listen in. You're a liar and I'm in The Pit, again. A long time ago I called you glass but now you're more like a mirror. Our hands move as reflections do. I lose another friend and I'm back in that Pit, again. We move slow like it's the only way we know. It was the water and the boat, but even with a strong line there you go. So I ran wild home and climbed in a strangers cab when we were hitchhikers. My thumb is out but you're speeding past. You're always on the bend when I'm The Pit, again. So, I let anger guide me home ... and there you are. I grunt and spit. We are cunt and dick. When will it end? Been in this Pit, again. We move slow like it's the only way we know. It was the water and the boat but even with a strong line there you go.
Track Name: Weirdo
Call me a 'weirdo' - just don't judge me and don't ignore me. Come alive in the morning time but I'm dead by lunch. Buried in my bed. At least here I can't be solved. No motives called, just a creeping smoke I call home. Call me a buck-toothed-piece-of-shit: I am that idiot, but I'm not malicious. No, I'm trying to be a good man. Trying to keep my hands to myself.
Track Name: Kind Of Flower
What a shame, I can't remember your name. It was some kind of flower. You typed it in my phone but never gave me your number. Thought I'd never see you again, but you've got a way of showing up late. You don't knock on my door because we always enter together, and babe, we don't need the words - I can see what you're saying in those Baby Blues. Don't apologize for waking me crawling back in to my bed, just tell me again Crush how we met. You said you've felt real sad, I want to make you never sad again. When you opened your eyes and I saw your smile, what a change from my day to day.
Track Name: Slow
It started slow at first. You did the washing and I did the drying, but now it's all reversed. And I'm tracing thought patterns visually, way back to Spring, just before it's Spring, again. One doesn't forget how to write song. One only forgets what to write about when that something has gone. Losing face in an isolated way. Got to thrive or die. It started slower at first, the pain. Then I cried and cried and cried like a child. Shame grips my ribcage and swings me left to right like an unwanted child. One doesn't forget how to sleep. One only forgets how to dream. Hiding away for the thoughts to stay: I think I'm going to die.