1. |
Saint Nathan
01:41
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We're not waking up at 4 in the morning chasing flat beer with Jameson anymore. No more puke on the concrete, a little on my shoes. It's okay, I'd really rather sleep in.
Let's jump off the roof and land in the bushes. Fuck the paper work. Remember when 40's came in glass bottles? Shattered on the pool deck in the pouring rain.
Water balloons filled with piss, broken windows and milkcrates underneath my bed. $5,000 fine only if we get caught. I'd write a letter if we did.
I'm coming through the bathroom ceiling while Mike's eating pasta off the ground. Johnny-boy is paranoid and Pat is digging the tunes.
And Nathan's getting high at Taco Bell.
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2. |
Ripoff
02:49
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What do I do when all my friends wanna stay sober through the weekend and I just need someone so I'm not drinking by myself again?
Crippled by previous things I mutter to myself.
Inspired by unholy things that I want you to see in me.
I know I can reframe my mind objectively with maturity.
But I rely on fantasy.
I rely on the perceived.
I rely on that you know I want you to know.
I'm sorry but I don't feel any shame reiterating my selfless state.
My claims are honest for a brief moment but logic is lost upon second thought.
And I thought that you'd wanna know.
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3. |
Hazy Sunday
02:06
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Elegant plans of small talk and getting stoned. Forget to tell my friends I'd rather be alone. Long-time aspiring ghosts holding hands and practicing Sunday night rituals. All blooming with anxiety.
Scrape me off the surface and ask me, "How are you today?" like I'm gonna say something new or tell the truth. Chuckle, silly, sharing secret loves. Living halfway. Likely unbalanced. Skirting trouble. Shooting down my own dreams honestly.
I always practice these mumble words.
Sneaking glances at my gorgeous decay.
Singing 8th grade songs.
Promoting cold hearts.
Bummed out without a fuss or need to explain.
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4. |
Sweater Breath
02:32
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Destroy friendly sleep and wake sore,
tired, almost worse off than before,
with a dry tongue and green eyes,
envious of poetic delights,
a lifeless long drive at night.
And here I am canceling out the white noise.
Breathing in a slow pace, matching my steps with the frantic spectrum of blindness.
Staring out of a window at a clumsy gridlock of souls edging elbows with impatient hosts. A drone at once shocking and dull.
And here I am kissing snakebites, kicking danger.
And there you are ignoring death with a smile.
And here I am drinking warm beer, yelling at strangers in a overcrowded parking lot,
a lonely reflex, a tempest ending ignoring the pissing match,
nagging and whispered with pointed fingers, insidious and helpful,
a happy escape from pretty sunsets, forming reasons to avoid goodbyes.
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Hooplah! Oakland, California
self-indulgent basement sounds and poems made by colin frost
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