So this is my third album
And when it′s done i'm not sure where i′ll be
I just applied for a job in oaklandSo that i can get in that scene
And talk to hipster kids that dress like me
And hand them my cd
And say 'your set was great,
Do you wanna book a show with me on saturday at starline?'
That job′s in data science i′m pretty good at lying
On my resume these days
'I′ve got arcgis, c++ and cascade'
I′ll show up hungover and staring at the ceiling
Thinking back to what the world looked like
From underneath psychedelic glass ceilings
I need a golden opportunity
I need a shot at redemption
Don't wanna end up twenty-seven
Forearms bleeding colors in a graveyard
I′ve got a lot to say
So laptops closed and pay attention
Tear your 90s literature apart
Record your daily thoughts to bandcamp
I'm keeping prisoner of myself
From an alternate dimension
Asking him just how long till he fucked it up
And he answers me 'three years′
I probably drank too much
I probably spent too much time alone
I probably smoked too much
I probably spent too much time with her
And I can hear just what they′re saying
'Oh he′s got it made and still complains'
Well it′s true I do
But I can't help what words I end up putting on the page
And yes I know I′m not depressed
Like my depression heroes, car seat and mitski
If only I could suffer like they do
Then writing songs would be so easy
And I would be legitimate
To everyone who writes a tweet
About how father john misty
Is this generation's paul mccartney
No one says that because it's not true
No offense to josh tillman just want to clarify
In case he calls me out on facebook
So I′ll float down okkervil river
Eating japanese breakfast
While less than tame impalas
Are killing suns and moons
In an old abandoned beach house
Well my pants are red enough to raise an eyebrow
But not rad enough to matter
And my shirts are old enough to taste like campfires
But not old enough to tatter
If I collect enough mastiffs and doberman pinschers
I might make it into heaven long enough to snap a picture
To the legions of millennials who think it′s cool to be agnostic
It's pretty cool to have no feelings, no ambitions, make no promises
And I′m a time-delayed masochist from my undergrad decisions
Having cruel internal dialogues with circa fall 2011
And I am beating eighteen-year-old me to fucking death
Oregon's not far, but if I make the drive
It will bring me much closer
To making sense of who I′d like to spend
My weekends with when sober
And I can see how it'd be if I went to Corvallis
Cut trees in the forest
And built a redwood vr to kick it with t.s. elliot
Left her in senior year, found someone else
Who read non-fiction, liked paul thomas anderson
And put up with ut kirin breakdown hell
Would I not have found myself alone at a desk
Spinning data in python to get a check and pay rent
Would I not have found myself alone in my head
Getting kicked by a drill sergeant to light fires that spread
Well I should give up and be a fucking adult
But I′d be lying to myself
And that's just not what I'm about right now
At least not right now
Why does it make me hate myself
To try to remember myself
By keeping handwritten letters on top of my shelf
From people I wrote songs about in 2012
But when I was walking through Point Reyes
Alone and painted in acrylic colors
Well I thought myself in circles of sinusoid yellows
Threading tapestries from nothing
Ripping meaning out of everyone
