Conor Oberst
American singer-songwriter best known for his work in Bright Eyes.
It's exploding bags, aerosol cans
Southbound buses, Peter Pan
They left it up to us again
I thought you knew the drill
It's kill or be killed.
I drug your ghost across the country, and we plotted out my death.
Every city and memory we whispered "Here is where you rest."
Well I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees
And I settled for a telephone, sang into your machine:
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."
So you think I need some discipline, well, I had my share. I have been sent to my room. I've been sat in a chair. I held my tongue. I didn't plug my ears. No, I got a good talking to. And now I don't know why, but I still try to smile when they talk at me like I'm just a child. Well, I'm not a child. No, I am much younger than that. And now I have read some books and have grown quite brave. If only I could just speak up I think I would say that there is no truth. There is only you and what you make the truth.
Alright this is a love song; I don't know if you guys are into love around here or what but.. I don't know, it's pretty rad.
In polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes
Were you made ashamed,
why'd you lock them in a drawer?
Well, I don't think that I ever loved you more
I can almost listen to a whole Justin Timberlake song without cringing. I do get a bit bummed out when it comes to Ashlee Simpson though.
Well, ABC, NBC, CBS: Bullshit.
They give us fact or fiction?
I guess an even split.
Love's an excuse to get hurt and to hurt.
Do you like to hurt?
I do, I do
then hurt me.
I don't know where those hippies went.
If you wanna see the future,
Go stare into a cloud.
So you can try and live in darkness
but you will never shake the light.
It will greet you every morning and make you more aware with its absence at night
This one goes out to Dick Cheney and his army of satan.
On a detox loft through a Glendale Park over sidewalk chalk
Someone wrote in red, "start over."
I’ve seen a child, he's caught in the sad trap of gravity.
He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree
and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity.
Next time he will not aim so high.
Yeah, next time, neither will I.
The world's become a little too mean.
And me I'm in my bedroom drawing in my notebook
Because my hand thinks I'm an artist
But my heart knows I'm a poet
It's just words they mean so little to me.
But greed is a bottomless pit
And our freedom's a joke we're just taking a piss
And the whole world must watch the sad comic display
If you're still free start runnin' away
'cause we're comin' for ya!
And there's kids playing guns in the streets
And one's pointing his tree branch at me
So I put my hands up I say
"Enough is enough,
If you walk away I walk away."
And he shot me dead.
And each new act of war is tonight's entertainment.
We're still the pawns in their game.