no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing

god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.

simply knowing you’re in a maze doesn’t get you out, but the fact is the foundation

my spirit sings to you, clears and quickens. losing you is impossible

there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them

better fucking eat it all up. time is getting drunk & may puke, be rude, before finally

yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what

liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem

bring me things to break myself upon till

of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery