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Songs (18)
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I left my shadow at your door
the city forgot my name but not your eyes
I keep hearing you in things that aren’t you
maps that still say your name
my body shuts dow like a motel sign
I stopped trying to get out
collision inside my head
Your Voice Still Lives in My Headphones at 3AM
I no longer hold you with my bread-hands
the feeling left like a child in winter
still I remain under the dark root
the night feels different now
sex crime on a Tuesday night in Manila
i was waiting at the club that night
the club on Church St. feels more prejudiced than pridedise.
Bryan, the psychotherapist, who calls the police when he’s the one being racist.
we were almost something sacred
even the silence came back in B Flat
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