Lyrics for 11/17/23 @ Archival Brewing

1. I was born to soon.
It was all brand new.
I’ve had to make it up as I go.
But I found my way
and I found my place
and I found some joy in it all.

I was born again;
 don’t know exactly when,
but I know my heart was strangely warmed.
Lived a life of grace–
at least it felt that way–
but then the whole damn thing
came crashing down to the ground.

Did Satan ask the Lord to sift my soul?
Take everything away from me, like Job?
I’m not one to question God,
but I liked how things were before…
the year of my fall.

2. I remember how
I thought I had it all.
Maybe I did, but now I’ll never know.
Lightning struck me twice, 
then it became my life.
Who I was before, I can barely recall.

Cradling my head in empty hands;
the facts are clear, but I still don’t understand
how I had so much, but somehow managed to lose it all
in the year of my fall.

3. In a twist of fate,
 I would die too late
to be spared the pain of it all.
I do what I can
with the days I have
and try not to dwell on what’s lost.

Where the river runs nobody knows.
The current sweeps us on in its blind force.
There’s no going back;
there’s only hope I’ll survive at all…

Does fate or grace or karma guide me now?
Or is it just dumb luck and nothing more?
I’m praying for some mercy in the years that lie beyond.
I’m pleading for some mercy in the years that lie beyond.
I’m begging for some mercy in the years that lie beyond
the year of my fall.

1. Do you remember
the night we fell in love?
We were closer than a kiss,
pressing hip to hip,
and I said, “I can’t…
I just can’t get enough.”

We were drinking
to St. Patrick and our love.
I said, “God bless the holy saint
of water and of drink!”
And you laughed, “Maybe…
maybe you’ve had enough.”

2. This year
 your kiss was quick,
my drink was long.
Do I think another round
will finally drown
 this feeling
that we’ve been two islands all along?

There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean between me
and my love.

3. St. Patrick,
 you sailed the sea
to set sinners free.
If ever there was a soul
adrift and alone,
St. Patrick, 
it is me.

There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean; an ocean;
There’s an ocean between me
and everyone I love.

Jesus Christ, I need a miracle:
like water into wine, or life for Lazarus.
‘Cause all I I have now is the party trick
of turning beer into piss.

And I can’t… I just can’t get enough.
I can’t… I just can’t get enough.
I can’t… I just can’t get enough.

1. Don't want to go to bed,
don't want to go to bed tonight.
I'm tired to the bone,
but I can't bear to be alone with them—
the voices in my head.

2. The voices in my head;
the voices in my head begin
to sing a song of woe—
as if I hadn't heard them all before.
The past begins again.

Saints and sinners branch
from the family tree,
connect my roots to the dirt of our history;
bitter fruit from which I'll never be free.
The past possesses me.
The past possesses me.

3. The past begins again;
the past begins again in me.
It's like I'm destined to
repeat each voice inside of me.
I sing the chorus once again.

Saints and sinners branch
from the family tree,
connect my roots to the dirt of our history;
bitter fruit from which I'll never be free.
The past possesses me.
The past possesses me.

People are likely to be idiots.
Everyone I know but me
is bound to be stupid.
I can see, predictably,
that you will disagree.
And that would make you...
an idiot.

1. As the year slowly unraveled,
I saw the little hope I had unwind.
It seemed the only thread remaining
led away from here to a different life.

Maybe this time I'll get it right.
Maybe this time I'll finally get it right
if I leave it all behind.

2. No one's gonna miss me.
No one will apologize.
And I thought this time was different—
how could I have been so blind?

Maybe this time I'll get it right.
Maybe this time I'll finally get it right
if I leave it all behind.

From town to town,
from place to place,
it's all the same.
From time to time
I wonder why things never change.

3. I keep my options open—
my expectations low, but my hopes are high.
I need to put my past behind me;
clean my slate and cut my ties.

Maybe this time I'll get it right.
Maybe this time I'll finally get it right
if I leave it all behind.

Maybe I just need some space,
a change of scenery.
Shed some baggage,
get a taste of being free.
The only thing I take
from town to town is me.
It's me. It's me.

4. In a bedroom full of boxes
suddenly I realize
that the only thing I've mastered
is leaving everything behind.

Maybe this time I'll get it right.
Maybe this time I'll finally get it right
if I leave it all behind.

I've been searching for the perfect song.
I've been searching for the perfect song.
But it's been here all along.

I've spent my days chasing dreams.
I've spent my days chasing dreams,
so beautiful, but just out of reach.

Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?

I've been trying to find my place.
I've been trying to find my place,
but everywhere I go is already taken.

Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?

1. Well, that's just what we need— another song.
There are no new melodies
and all the good rhymes are taken.
Just twelve notes in their various combinations
make 479 million one thousand six hundred.
How many more of these can there be?
'Cause it means everything to me.

2. Is it vanity to even believe
that anything one says
could have new meaning at this stage?
It was a beautiful robe but the same as yesterday,
so the emperor undressed and everyone looked away.
If history's a parade, what will the spectators say?
'Cause it means everything to me.

It means everything, everything.
It means everything to me.

3. There is nothing new under the sun.
Every river runs into the ocean.
This tired, dizzy earth just keeps on spinning.
I can't catch my breath— it's always someone else's.
If originality is something I can't achieve
why's it mean everything to me?

It means everything, everything.
It means everything to me.

1. I am so far from home and all alone
but somehow I feel close
when I'm watching your TV shows.
They show me who you are,
the things that spark, the loves, the fears,
so deep in your heart of hearts.

2. I see the pretty things that lure you in,
the hungering, the jealousies
that make you crazy.
But mostly it's the petty things
that fill your weeks—
the comfort foods, the glowing screens
distract you from your pain.

Oh, you puny humans.

3. Your day's extent is eating breakfast,
sending texts and planning next
who you'd have sex with.
But it's perplexing: though it flexes,
no one frets at how defenseless
the human neck is.

Oh, you puny humans.

I won't shed a tear for you.
No, I won't shed a tear.
I won't shed a tear for you.
No, I won't shed a tear.
I won't shed a tear for you.
I won't shed a tear for you.

4. This won't hurt a bit.
Just think of it as an adjustment,
a gentle judgement or a quiet apocalypse.
You won't feel a thing until you wake,
you might feel something missing.
(But there's always something missing.)

Oh, you puny humans.

No one can hear your screams.
They only echo in my dreams.
This is my reality:
I am alone, but free.
I am alone, but free.
I am alone.

I am so far from home,
with so far to go.
I watch the lightyears pass
in such a dark and lonely place.
I am alone, but free.

1. I wanted to believe in love one more time.
I was hoping: maybe you could save me.
You had to leave your broken years behind
and just start again.
Would I catch you if you were brave enough to dive?

2. Who could have known how lovely love could be?
But sometimes you can taste more
of the sour than the sweet.
But it's still divine, like a lemon and lime.
It's still divine, like a lemon and lime.

3. By now you know the pleasure
and the pain are intertwined.
It's just the way it is.
Can you believe how all the joys and tears
can be so satisfying?
Like a lemon and lime.
So satisfying, like a lemon and lime.
So satisfying, like a lemon and lime.
So satisfying, like a lemon and lime.
Like a lemon and lime.

I can't predict my fate;
it could go either way.
All I know is everybody's somebody's slave.
Watch me oscillate
as my balance gathers weight.
If this continues something's going to break.

The risk is high;
the stakes are higher.
One look below and I start to perspire. . .
walking the wire.

I look at how I've lived,
and when I think of all I've said;
I know that I will die a hypocrite.
Look into my eyes;
they're a faded white.
Everything I see is affected by my lies.

Run and don't look back.
My God, I'm tired,
but like a dog to his vomit,
or a moth to the fire,
I'm walking the wire.

All sin is the same;
you can't sleep with the shame,
'cause you can't shut your eyes to the flame.
That's why I've been up all night
struggling with my mind.
Guilt has a way of giving me advice.

When I stop to think
I realize
if I just think, I'm none the wiser,
if I'm walking the wire.

1. Last night I took a beating on the bass.
I couldn’t even walk through “Straight, No Chaser”.
The worst thing is they don’t tell you to your face,
they say it was great--what do they know anyway?

Last week I was unconquerable, unbeatable;
anything I wanted was in reach, but when I woke this
morning, though I still could do most anything,
I realize now it takes at least a lifetime for each.

Step up! It’s your turn to choose a door,
behind the right one lies the future
you’ve always been hoping for.
Blow it, and there’s no consolation more--
just another genius mopping floors.

I can’t begin to tell you
what it does to your sense of pride.
I will be in my bedroom,
though I know it won’t help to hide away,
because this morning is just more of the night before.

2. Sunday I’ll play my bass again.
If perfection takes years
I’ve only had days from the way it’s sounding.
Maybe it’s time to make some changes.
If I want to make my mark
I’ll have to be more concentrated.

Let’s say I were to drop the bass. With no practicing
I’d have more time for writing music,
which in any case, is more my thing.
Hold on! Now wait a minute, don’t cut that string--
it doesn’t seem like much now,
but if I fall then it might be
something to keep me going.
Composition won’t pay my bills;
and there’s no way of knowing.
If it’s all just a war of wills I’ll win,
but tomorrow may be more of the night before.

3. Maybe this will work itself out someday,
though I’m one in a million,
all hoping for the same thing;
I know I’ve got something no one else has to say,
which will keep me hanging on until the day

I finally find someone listening.
that’ll make it all worth my while.
I’ve always believed I could do it,
though I’m only now asking why
When tomorrow may be more,
when tomorrow may be more,
when tomorrow may be more of the night before.
Tomorrow may be more of the night before.

1. Sometimes I have nothing to say,
and other times I don't have much to say,
but I usually say it anyway
in the hopes that it will all come out some

day I'll show you what's in my heart and head:
you might be enlightened--you might be scared,
but you'll probably be a bit surprised
to find out in the end there's something there.

It shocked me, too, at first,
but I guess I've since gotten used to it,
'cause I have lived inside this skin
for long enough to know what it is I'm thinking;

and it's you this time
who's occupying this thing I call my mind.
I wish you'd get out of there,
'cause you mess my mind up

Day and night.
Maybe if I could
someday, some how, some way
I'm gonna tell you how I feel.

2. Manchmal hab' ich nichts zu sagen,
und andersmal wurd' es schon gesagt.
Trotzdem sag' ich es, normaleweise,
und ich hoffe, daß es gut wird

eines tages wird's Dir klar
was in meinem Herzen steht,
und wieso ich so ein richtiges Blödsinn red'
jedesmal, wenn Du in meiner Nähe stehst,

Ich fühle mich irgendwie so unwohl.
Ich komme mir als ein Trott'l vor,
weil ich nie 'was vernünftiges zu sagen hab'--
auf alle Fehle nicht mit Dir.

Ich warte auf ein Happy End;
es kommt nicht --mir wird's frustrierend.
Der Dokumentarfilm meines Lebens
wird gespielt

Tag und Nacht.
Baby, wird's Du eines Tages
verstehen, doch wenn Dir irgendwie
klar wird wie ich mich fühl'.

I'm gonna tell you how I feel.

3. Now for the third and final verse,
obwohl es Dir wahrscheinlich Würst ist,
so far it's helped my catharsis,
und das ist vielleicht besser als Nichts.

I'll end it now 'cause you don't care,
und sowieso hab' ich keine Wörte mehr.
What's the use of talking when there's noone there?
Doch es gibt jemand mit Öhren zugesperrt.

Maybe one day I'll get it right;
zuerst sterb' ich an Einsamkeit.
Without you's without a hope in sight.
Es ist vorbei....

Someday, some how, some way,
I'm gonna tell you how I feel.

Hello, I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet:
my name is Greg and I’ll be regulating the MC position
with the rhymes that are so sweet they’ll knock you off your feet..
Yo! You don’t believe me? Well, then we’ll give you that beat we call the groove.
We’ll make you move with tunes so new they’ll soothe
like few could do if they wanted to--and they do,
but they’re confused, abused, reduced to spew;
in lieu of school they flew the coop, and threw the tools
I choose to use away. And that’s the truth.
Now that you know I’ve got rhymes to fill pages,
I’ll tell you something else--we know the changes.

Maybe you mean my music is a miracle:
a big burly beat, but because it’s light and lyrical
it’s likely to be likened to a winter atmospherical
with chills so low they can’t be measured empirically.
You see, it’s all quite easy
when you’re working in a groove that was created by me
and the monsters that are laying this all down.
You have no choice but dance until you fall down.
Hip-hop, be-bop, house--it doesn’t phase us;
we throw it down and then again we raise it
up to a pinnacle so high it could be dangerous,
and yo! we know the changes.

Words are the weapons with which I weave my way.
When it comes to war--put down your sword and start to sway
to the music both back and forth. When we play
who can say when we will let you off?
Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next;
it could be a century before I run out of text,
but we’ll leave that question alone for the experts,
who will study my rhymes but stay perplexed.
Did I tell you about the time I wrote some lines for Noah Webster?
He had found I fashioned phrases both ferocious and unfettered.
Well, I took my pen in hand and sat right down and wrote a letter
with about a billion words to make his dictionary better.
He replied that he would try to catalog and alphabet them,
now his dictionary’s unabridged and he’s deeply indebted
‘cause he knew I write the rhymes that are both righteous and outrageous
and if the rhyme needs a riff--we know the changes.

I will not cry, though my heart breaks inside.
You, O my long lost love!
You, O my long lost love!
I will not cry. I will not cry.
Though you may shine like dazzling diamond light,
those rays don't reach your heart,
as dark as night— that's never changed.

I will not cry, though my heart breaks inside.
I saw you in my dreaming.
I saw the night that fills your soul completely,
and saw the serpent that devours your heart:
I saw, my love, how sad and lost you are.
I will not cry. I will not cry.

1. We all want to be loved;
we're afraid to be alone.
We offer up our souls, but still it's not enough.
Our need, it only grows.
We're terrified of being left alone
with nothing but this hole: sinking like a stone.
Sinking like a stone, sinking like a stone.

2. We all want to be loved,
but we're afraid of being known.
Naked and exposed, we'll always hide ourselves.
So don't get too close; the intimacy's too much.
We're vulnerable to touch;
it opens wide the soul: sinking like a stone.
Sinking like a stone, sinking like a stone.

3. We all want to be loved;
we're afraid we'll disappear.
Love, pain, and fear are better than nothing at all.
We all feel the void. We're all hanging on
for dear life, lest we fall
into those dark jaws: sinking like a stone.
Sinking like a stone, sinking like a stone.

Sinking like a stone,
sinking like a stone,
sinking like a stone.
We all want to be loved, but we're afraid. . .

We're all going to die alone. (Hallelujah!)
Been that way since we were born. (Hallelujah!)
Everyone's hoping for a home. (Hallelujah!)
Someone they can call their own (Hallelujah!)

Everybody's looking for a friend. (Hallelujah!)
But we're terrified to let them in. (Hallelujah!)
If they knew what's in your heart and head, (Hallelujah!)
they'd leave you on your own again. (Hallelujah!)

All our lives are spent chasing the wind,
but it's the wind that catches us in the end.
Bones and memories turn to dust.
And another generation only coughs.
Is that enough? Is that enough?
Is that enough? Is that enough?

Spend our days wondering what we did (Hallelujah!)
to deserve all this. (Hallelujah!)
But we've spent our years collecting sins. (Hallelujah!)
Maybe that's why it's come to this. (Hallelujah!)
We all know we're going to die. (Hallelujah!)
We just don't know how or when.

1. Who knows of the ever after?
Who wants to arrive there faster?
I’m not sure about forever—
I only know I want to be together.

2. Who knows what our dreams are made of—
hopes or fears or fairy dustings?
All I know is when I’m fading,
there’s another world there waiting.

And when I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming of you.

3. When this sleep is finally ended,
I’ll wake up and I’ll remember
something, someone, somehow waiting
just beyond what dreams are made of.

And when I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming of you.

1. Have you lost faith?
Have you lost heart?
Has what is left grown tired and hard?
Has it been hard?
Has it been long?
Has it been going on and on?

Would it kill you
to not treat the toothpaste
like something you were trying to strangle?

2. Has it gone too far?
Has it gone too wrong?
Has it just worn you down?
Are you left with rage
when all your love is gone?
Are you left with nothing left at all?

Would it kill you
to not treat the toothpaste
like something you were trying to strangle?

Are you left with nothing left at all?

1. St. Valentine, 
can you share a little wisdom?
You were chaste, but love’s your business.
It’s your day, but it’s my daily burden.

My love and I, we have our holiday traditions,
like the way we ruin Christmas
and anniversaries over stupid things like the dishes.
It’s never perfect.

It’s never perfect.
It's never perfect.
It's never perfect.

2. St Valentine,
do you take prayers from weary lovers
who aren’t looking for another, but wonder
how they turned into business partners or brothers?

Why does love seem so perfect at a distance?
Does the consummation kill it?
Wondering if it’s worth it,
when it’s never perfect.

It’s never perfect.
It's never perfect.
It's never perfect.

3. St. Valentine,
you were a saint, but I’m sinner.
I pray the pain of love won’t kill me,
but I’m afraid that prayer’s not working.
It’s never perfect.

It’s never perfect.
It's never perfect.
It's never perfect.

Even if I am in love with you—
what’s that— has this been used?
Well, I guess that’s something I’m getting used to
I loved you once. I love you first.
I loved the person that I thought you were
and I’d love you still if you were more like her.
I was 22 years when I fell in love.
I’ll be 24 soon and it won’t be long
before I never hear from you again. But back then
you said I was a friend that you could talk to,
but what’s that matter if we never do?
I’m still waiting. . .

Let me into your heart.

I still get a bit depressed
when I think of the night that we kissed
back when a kiss still meant something.
But if you’re not careful it becomes
a commodity you can’t do with out
and it  just gets cheaper the more you give away.
So don’t you open up your mouth
to down the girls that I go out with
they don’t make me proud, just a little less lonely.
And even if I haven’t found true love,
I’ve found someone who returns my calls,
and for now that’s better than your sweet nothings.

Let me into your heart.

Words hypnotize, words paralyze,
sometimes the words you don’t say are lies.
If that is true, than that would make you a liar.
You have found, or maybe you’ll find out,
words can cut you in two like a knife,
but silence is a merciless way to die.

Let me into you heart.

Even if I am in love with you—
what’s that— has this been used?
Well, that’s something I’m getting used to.

Let me into you heart.

Has he written a song for you?
Well, this makes five from me.
You say you get along, you two;
well, we’ll see

if he is all he’s cut out to be
or if he changes in a while.
People aren’t always what they seem
when they smile.

The deeper and deeper you get, the more you’ll find
the truth to be just what I said; and then you'll see
that you have been wasting your time. You’ll come to me,
‘cause I have been waiting so long for your love to be mine.

Does he think of you all the time
or only when you’re there?
You are with me everywhere I go.
And one more thing: I’d like to know

if he has written a song for you.
My inspiration is so strong
that I feel the sixth one coming on
and it won’t be long before

the deeper and deeper you get, the more you’ll find
the truth to be just what I said, and then you’ll see
that you have been wasting your time
with a man like this,
the deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and

deeper you get the more you’ll see in me.
He looks good now, but given time he’ll sink
to what he was without your love
and then you'll see, you’ll see...

The deeper and deeper you get, the more you’ll find
the truth to be just what I said; and then you’ll see
that you have been wasting your time. You’ll come to me
‘cause I have been waiting so long for your love to be mine.
The deeper and deeper you get.

You’re going to die.
And we’re going to die.
Let’s all make the most
Of this sad and fleeting life.

You’re going to die.
And we’re going to die.
So happy birthday.
Hope you have a real good time.