Conor Oberst
American singer-songwriter best known for his work in Bright Eyes.
And the sad act like lepers
They stick to the shadows
They long to ring bells of warning
To tell of their coming
So that the pure can shut their doors.
But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living
Cause it's the ones with the sorest throats Laura,
who have done the most singing.
Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much.
The hook is in deep boys,
there is no more time.
So you can struggle in the water
and be too stubborn to die,
or you could just let go and be lifted to the sky.
a good woman will pick you apart
a box full of suggestions for your possible heart
and you may be offended. and you may be afraid
but don't walk away, don't walk away
And in the morning when the sun rise.
Look in the water, see the blue sky.
As if heaven has been laid there at our feet.
And me I'm in the bathroom
crying out my eyelids because it's hard to be a man
when you're scared, just like a little kid.
So I want to get myself attached to something bolted down,
So that these winds of circumstance won't keep blowing me around.
From when I land to when I leave
there is enough time to sleep and sing.
I keep running around, when all I want is to lay motionless.
So I wait for the day
when I'll hear the key
as it turns in the lock
And the guard will say to me,
"Oh my patient prisoner
you waited for this day and finally,
you are free!
You are free!
You are free!"
For a sunrise or a sunset, you're manic or you’re depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?
Because the truth is that gossip
is as good as gospel in this town.
You can save face but
you won't ever save your soul.
And that's a fact.
I never fuck with Facebook. I absolutely despise social networking. I think it's truly going to result in the destruction of mankind. Sometimes I just wish I didn't live in this time. Before, there was so much more freedom and privacy, and you could truly escape places.
The animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness.
Little soldier, little insect
You know war it has no heart
It will kill you in the sunshine
Or happily in the the dark
Where kindness is a card game
Or a bent up cigarette
In the trenches, in the hard rain
With a bullet and a bet.
I'd rather be working for a paycheck, than waiting to win the lottery.
Besides, maybe this time it's different, I mean,
I really think you like me.
My Brother went to college
To become a doctor
And if he studies hard enough
He'll end up just like papa, who hates his life.
Screaming is bad for the voice, but it's good for the heart.
We're all too busy working, entertaining ourselves
With forty hours, television and prescription pills
Well, I take two a day to help my brain behave
It never does, but who's to say? At least my doctor gets paid.
We're all a little broken. We're all a little twisted. We're all less than we could be or want to be.
I swear that I'm dying
slowly but it's happening,
and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere...
just take me there.