Braided Voices by The Squall (close to final version)

Original song, original words

"Girls Are Way Too Forward (Guys Just Shrug Their Shoulders)" written by Chloe Howard:


girls are way too forward, and guys just shrug their shoulders

and i've learned to hold steady by staying positive
but all these boys and girls in america need to sit up and listen
and what does it take to get you to socialize?
how much would it take to get me mystified?
i don't need enough to get me paralyzed
but give me what i need to have a good time

this rainy weather reminds me of movies
it moves me, secludes me, and sometimes really fucks with me

girls are way too forward, and guys just shrug their shoulders
girls are way too forward, and guys just shrug their shoulders

so many cupboards in my imagination, still tryna
figure out how to open them

if time stands still, time must be tired
if time stands still, time must be tired

switching hands for the cigarette
cover the other with the mitten flap
hanging outside the vacant buildings
man, fuck all this heavy wind

had a hard time admitting, i sorta had a vision
i was all hidden under the sink, i must've been there for hours
i had to wait for him to leave, then i picked open the drawer
you could say that we scored
man, i love 2010
we gotta do this again

----------------------------------------­---------------------------------------­-­-
"Untitled"

'"I will never forget the way you look at midnight"
Walking away, the creak in your sneakers cover dusty curtains
And fields of wheat, scorched down to ash and entryways
I cannot replace your absent mind
Nor the fit of your lip into the bitter hallow of my fist
Separating flesh from feeling
Fingering sad salty sedation

Pacing across potential drawbridges
When I close my eyes - I cannot see -
And the scent of your morning breath
Pulls me from a hypothetical slumber

The face staring back at me will always be fair
In a line-up I would lie, my monstrous smile
Pretend you are a stranger
"Hello, stranger
Won't you tell me which direction is home?"
I have bleached the sheets
Bandaged a wound
Destroyed and discarded diaries in your name
To forget the shape of your fingernails
In compensation for forgiveness

Ethos does not judge me
Yet there are sweat stains on my shirt sleeves
And my tongue tires of iron and axe
You say, "Come with me to London,"
Or to the country or the store
But I have yet to explore outside my boudoir
And your invitations come so frequently
Bodies buried beneath bastardy brethren
I am nothing like the girl in your fantasies
Grown half a foot since we've met
And your hair has grown back I see
"I'm sorry I missed your call
I fell asleep waiting for someone else"
This has nothing to do with your hero's suicide
Nor the piles of paper awaiting adoption

Beneath cartons of milk, eggs, bread, butter
It is the routine of skin against skin
The push and pull of limits and bra hooks
And speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world
Everything reminds me of you
But there is no list
"There is only you."'

Category:

Music

Tags:

• the squall
• braided voices