A Little Breath

Why do I wanna walk out in the nighttime?
Why do I wanna walk out in the night?
Why do my bones feel so tired and broken?
Why do I feel everything escaping me?

I used to go out running in the nighttime.
I used to run right up those moonlight beams.
I used to outrun all my wrong decisions.
I used to run until the hills crumbled down.

I believe in everything, my sweet one.
I believe in everything you’ve said to me.
I believe it’s time to rethink better places.
I believe everything is where it should be.

Is love worth everyone going hungry?
Does that death justify the means?
Do you do believe in anything, baby?
It’s a subtle miracle, a little breath, a little being.

A Little Breath

The Force of the State

A constant parade of names
come into your head
when you’re not sleeping well.
Someone told me these things
happen for a thousand reasons.
But we say “a thousand reasons”
to make it easier to accept
that we don’t know anything
about anything.
We don't know the reasons.
We don’t know
why we crossed that bridge.
We don’t know the other side.
But if you want to know,
really know a reason,
know it’s you, it’s me.
It’s them, it’s us.
It’s black, it’s white.
It’s good, it’s bad.
It’s back and forth
all the time.
It's an endless day.
Oh, it's an endless night.
Something in me
wants to rend
your mythology.
Something in me
wants to tear you apart.
The Force of the State

The Problems You’re Stuck With

We were that naive.

People dying, people falling in love

at an unbelievable pace.

The notes move close together.

There is no space

for melody to arise.

Ishvara is lower than Buddha, right? Right.

Whatever matters at all?

It won’t last because it never ends.

This time, you’re leaving me tonight.

You’re gonna drop the bomb.

This time you’re giving me tonight

reminds me that in Heaven

there is no temple.

The whole world is

the sound of the bell.

We’re taking licks like Jesus.

Oh goddamnit, someone had to go first.

The Problems You’re Stuck With

Queens of

We are the queens of the hills.
We are lonely inhabitants.
There’re no limits to this world.
Is your mind running?
Are you only fooling around?
There’re no limits to this world.
I wrote a song about song about you.
Let me sing it to you:
“I heard it first on the radio:
‘Why do you treat me so hard?
I'm all right, I feel alright
I'm all right, but what I can't see
Are these hands touching your face’
I listened to dignity fade
As the lyrics stripped it down:
‘This love is not a tombstone
This love is not a way home
This love throws like tornados
Still half the world sleeps alone’”
Queens of


All I want is everything
All I want is everything
All I want is everything
All I want is you

You argued with your husband
as he drove you home
from your child’s funeral.

He said, “I’ll put you on a plane.
You’re not the only one
who’s been through hell.”

You said, “Where do you think
I want to go? Where are you
trying to send me?”

All I want is nothing new
All I want is nothing new
All I want is nothing new
All I want is you


Gramarye for You and Me

Let’s recall a fairy tale
About a fairy tale
About a fiery man
Missing pieces of his grammar.

Did he lose the pieces
Or did he scatter his grammar
With deliberation?

If you find a piece
Be sure to keep it hidden
For every little bit
Contains some twisted power.

One piece empties hearts.
One piece turns birds to clouds.
One piece burns dreams alive.
One piece makes nothings cry.

Are we alone without our grammars?
Would we dare to speak and tell?
Who are we without our grammars?
Without these spells, comforting glamours?

Gramarye for You and Me

Dogs of New York City

Remember when we were smiling women, baby?

Remember when we were leather-clad men?

You were such a woman, baby baby, baby you were such a goddamn man.

I was never the right woman, baby baby, baby I was never a real good man.

Now I watch the broken women, baby.

Baby, now I watch the frightened men.

Remember when we were lovely women, baby?

Remember when we were thinking men?

You’ve got to clean me up and down.

Every time you bend and crack, I will share the pain.

Here is the cold May morning, at last.

Was there ever any sense in New York City?

New York City, baby baby.

Long and lean in the wet, dirty Spring.

Used to follow me across the border when I’d run.

Chased to the crossroads of indifference and ill consequence.

The dogs of New York City never let the men and women leave.

Dogs of New York City