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Yours is the first face that I saw.
I think I was blind before I met you...
Basic Info| Name: | You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for. |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 01-29 |
| Location: | Manchester, Connecticut, United States |
External Services:
 | apeiron_soma@livejournal.com | |
 | punkguyky |  |
BioIf you hate the taste of wine, why do you drink it 'till you're blind?
And if you swear that there's no truth and who cares, why do you say it like you're right?
Why are you scared to dream of God, when it's salvation that you want?
Like stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea still lives on.
In our wheels that roll around, as we move over the ground.
And all day it seems, we've been in between a past and present town.
We are nowhere, and it's now. We are nowhere and it's now.
And like a ten minute dream in the passenger seat while the world was flying by,
I haven't been gone very long but it feels like a lifetime.
I've been sleeping so strange at night, side effects they don't advertise.
I've been sleeping so strange, with a head full of pesticides.
I got no plans and too much time. I feel too restless to unwind.
I'm always lost in thought as I walk the block to my favorite neon sign.
Where the waitress looks concerned, but she never says a word.
Just turns the jukebox on and we hum along and I smile back at her.
And my friend comes after work, when the features start to blur.
She says, "these bars are filled with things that kill, by now you probably should have learned.
Did you forget that yellow bird, how could you forget your yellow bird?"
And she took a small silver wreath and pinned it onto me.
She said, "this one will bring you love."
And I don't know if it's true, but I keep it for good luck.
Poison Oak, some boyhood bravery.
When a telephone was a tin can on a string.
And I fell asleep with you still talking to me.
You said you weren't afraid to die.
In polaroids, you were dressed in women's clothes.
Were you made ashamed, why did you lock them in a drawer?
Well I don't think that I ever loved you more.
Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door,
when you stole a car and drove toward Mexico.
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm.
I was young enough, I still believed in war.
Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep.
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam.
But me, I'm a single cell, on a serpent's tongue.
There's a muddy field where a garden was,
and I'm glad you got away, but I'm still stuck out here.
My clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears.
And I never thought this life was possible.
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for.
The end of paralysis, I was a statuette,
now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench.
And when I press the keys, it all gets reversed.
The sound of loneliness makes me happier.
And if you swear that there's no truth and who cares, why do you say it like you're right?
Why are you scared to dream of God, when it's salvation that you want?
Like stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea still lives on.
In our wheels that roll around, as we move over the ground.
And all day it seems, we've been in between a past and present town.
We are nowhere, and it's now. We are nowhere and it's now.
And like a ten minute dream in the passenger seat while the world was flying by,
I haven't been gone very long but it feels like a lifetime.
I've been sleeping so strange at night, side effects they don't advertise.
I've been sleeping so strange, with a head full of pesticides.
I got no plans and too much time. I feel too restless to unwind.
I'm always lost in thought as I walk the block to my favorite neon sign.
Where the waitress looks concerned, but she never says a word.
Just turns the jukebox on and we hum along and I smile back at her.
And my friend comes after work, when the features start to blur.
She says, "these bars are filled with things that kill, by now you probably should have learned.
Did you forget that yellow bird, how could you forget your yellow bird?"
And she took a small silver wreath and pinned it onto me.
She said, "this one will bring you love."
And I don't know if it's true, but I keep it for good luck.
When a telephone was a tin can on a string.
And I fell asleep with you still talking to me.
You said you weren't afraid to die.
In polaroids, you were dressed in women's clothes.
Were you made ashamed, why did you lock them in a drawer?
Well I don't think that I ever loved you more.
Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door,
when you stole a car and drove toward Mexico.
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm.
I was young enough, I still believed in war.
Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep.
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam.
But me, I'm a single cell, on a serpent's tongue.
There's a muddy field where a garden was,
and I'm glad you got away, but I'm still stuck out here.
My clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears.
And I never thought this life was possible.
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for.
The end of paralysis, I was a statuette,
now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench.
And when I press the keys, it all gets reversed.
The sound of loneliness makes me happier.
InterestsInterests (28):
being with certain people, ben folds, benjamin gibbard, bright eyes, conor oberst, cursive, death cab for cutie, drawing, eternal sunshine..., garden state, good music, hanson, having crushes, having fun, love, matthew pryor, morrissey, natalie portman, rilo kiley, saddle creek, scrubs, the get up kids, the new amsterdams, the postal service, the shins, the smiths, writing, zach braff
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_____torosaurus, __killahpussy, _shoobiedoowop, deathcab4karen, debris_slide, drzre, emmeangel, justa_paperbag, likevoltron, mike_merritt, no_perfect_star, obbienotobbie, patrice860, plasticpolaroid, punkguyky, quotesgurl, son_ofa_prophet, weezeritis
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