Holy

the hand that reaches for the sky will touch the hands of angels and feel the heat off the stars and caress the universe

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Head Case

My mind is filled with traps that I don’t remember setting

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Traitor

you wasted your time on me faked a friendship so that in a week you could tell me

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Tennessee

I made my way to Tennessee So I could go to Nashville

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Grandmother’s Garden

you were a flower in the middle of a wasteland where things refused to grow

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Unhappy Little Houses

things aren’t what they seem in these happy little houses that have walls that are filled with the portraits of smiling faces faking a picture of perfection

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