Resurrect Me Single

I work better under pressure.
That’s the way it’s always been.
I hate to admit, but sometimes, just a push, a pull,
a stab, or a smack: I’m right back in.

I don’t know if it fits a particular pattern,
a present from my youth.
All I know is right now there’s a blade
against my throat and I’m finally tuning in.

Oh, resurrect me.
Oh, save my soul.
Kill the hungry ghosts,
next time, do I wanna come back as something pure,
and clean, and…someone else?

Oh, resurrect me.
Oh, save my soul.
Kill the hungry ghosts,
next time, do I wanna come back as something pure,
and clean, and…someone else?

Either I live my life so hard
that I can’t breathe, but I feel so alive,
or I can give up, but there’s no compromise-
either I live my life or I write a goodbye letter.

I work better under pressure…

I’m a little lost these days.
I can’t afford the cost these days.
‘Cause my brain, and my heart, and my soul, and my mind,
they broke up and they wandered away.

Can it be this pain I need?
Should all my songs go back to seed?
Where the sun, and the moon, and the earth, and my tears,
are the only critics around?

I can’t steer behind those eyes,
I don’t want to go home with that prize.
I want to do more than just survive.
I want to conquer, I want to thrive.

I’m prepared for frost these days.
Haven’t seen my blooms in an age.
‘Cause the wounds, and the grief, and the love underneath,
nearly tore my roots from the ground.

All the mirrors here are gone.
I see the shards have much more charm.
But the view from the here makes my heart disappear,
and the colors just aren’t the same.

I can’t steer behind those eyes,
and I don’t want to go home with that prize.
I want to do more than just survive.
I want to conquer, I want to thrive.

I want to go until the world tells me no.
Then I gotta give and spread the joy around…

Here we are again, and I’m needing you.
What’s that silly word, it means, won’t you push me through?
But I’m no good at ask, and you’re so bad at tell;
what a pretty house we built down here, and it’s burning well.

Please, say what I need to hear, say what I want to hear.
Please, for once, don’t you trust this veneer, say what I need to hear.

You know my face can lie.
You know when you can’t see me, I cry.
What are you gonna do when I just want to die?
Will you pick up a sword and fight or will you fly?

Please, say what I need to hear, what I want to hear.
Please, for once, don’t you trust this veneer, say what I need to hear.

I don’t have any might left; I fought it all away,
none saved for a hurricane, or a tidal wave.

Please, say what I need to hear, what I want to hear.
Please, for once, don’t you trust this veneer, say what I need to hear.

Here we are again, and I’m needing you,
what’s the silly word again, it means, won’t you push me through?
But I’m no good at ask, and you’re so bad at tell,
what a pretty house we built down here, and it’s burning well…

You’ve grown weary of my dreary attitude.
And I’m leery of your endless, thoughtless platitudes.
And you must be so sick of my cut-and-run style,
my Texas Two-Step that laughs and passes for a mile.

But things aren’t ever merely,
not so clearly what they seem.
and if we didn’t get so quickly
to downright mean…

Maybe we should
punch each other’s mother-loving faces?
And maybe throw it down till we’re black and blue
in all kinds of obvious places?

Don’t mind if I do
slap your fat little face, too.
But once we’re bloody, cut-up and all muddy,
this bullshit is through.

Baby, we couldn’t get it together,
we need some sun, but there’s been so much bad weather.
The kind of things you’ve said to me, I think your fist could say
so much better. Don’t think it through; raise your guard but let your heart fly too,
once we’re bloody, cut-up and all muddy, this bullshit is through.

But there was love once, was there not?
We let good memories be forgotten,
and it’s all too much for silly words,
so I suggest that we fight ‘til the hurt is gone, and…maybe…

What did they do to you,
to make you do this to me?
What can I say to you,
that might set you finally flying free?

How about, I forgive you?
How does that make you feel?
How about, you forgive them?
Doesn’t make it any less real.

Show me everything that made you bleed,
show me all your lost time.
Hand over all your tears,
and I’ll mix them with mine, on our shrine.

How about, I forgive you?
How does that make you feel?
How about you forgive them?
Doesn’t make it any less real.

I feel your seething, brutal eyes,
I’ve cried for you a thousand times.

How about I forgive you?
How does that make you feel?
How about you forgive them?
Never going to make it less real.

Thank you to the Big Apple, from one of your wee worms,
eaten to the core with envy that I can’t bend you to my terms.
You don’t care how I wiggle, how I whistle, or if I giggle,
but oh, you’re such a Big Apple, and how you do love to make me work.

I don’t walk these streets; I time-travel,
I skip between worlds, and tongues,
and I pleasantly unravel,
become nothing but my shoes on cement.

Thank you to the Big Apple, I’m trying to put a shine on you.
I’m sitting here and trying to grapple, how to get a bite in, too.
But, you don’t care how I wiggle, how I whistle, or if I giggle,
but oh, you’re such a Big Apple, and how you do love to make me work.

I don’t drive here so much as defend my crown.
I see barely more than I see through.
We’re on display even when we’re underground,
so we stiffen, dive in, and subdue.

Thank you to the Big Apple, from one of your wee worms,
eaten to the core with envy that I can’t bend you to my terms.
Oh, you don’t care how I wiggle, how I whistle, or if I giggle,
but oh, you’re such a Big Apple, and how you do love to make me work.

You smell so stupid these days that it finally managed to lift the haze.
My mama, she said that it was just a phase,
but that was my whole life ago.

I can’t believe that I let you see me, you shabby copy, you facsimile,
a man that never quite came to be, you’re a wind that just won’t blow.
And you, you pretend you don’t know…

I been doing these same types of people to myself for far too long,
for far too long.
And I’m tired of finding myself in the same place,
singing the same damn song.
It’s tricky, this sticky mire I paint on myself-keep me stuck to you,
the idea of you, not the real you.

Here is my heart, I fixed it up nice; here is a fork, but you might need a knife.
‘Cause things are tough and I’m not fine, what I want-is not mine.
It won’t give, it won’t budge, I’m out of line.

I been doing these same types of people to myself for far too long,
for far too long.
And I’m tired of finding myself in the same place,
singing the same damn song.
It’s so tricky, this sticky mire I paint on myself-keep me stuck to you,
the idea of you. Not the real you.
You smell so stupid these days…

This is a happy song,
to please the happy throngs,
to prove I’m so damn happy all the time.

Your life, it may be rough,
but that one life better be enough,
no proof of any after party plans.

In fact, that thing, that word I am, it starts with, “H,”
and may be a sham.
Happy is a construct. “Well, what’s a construct?” you say,
I say, “It’s something somebody made up.”

In fact all words, those things we use
to please ourselves, and others abuse,
all those words are constructs, they’re words we save up,
build to destroy us, then use to make up.

So don’t be fooled, by tags or rules,
just keep on doing, think less of proving,
‘cause silly words are constructs, they’ll leave you soul-sucked,
naked by the roadside, and then, you’re tow-trucked.

And don’t forget, tomorrow could always kill you!!
Whether or not you’re happy, tomorrow could always kill you!!
This is a happy song…

What does today look like when seen through tomorrow’s eyes?
How can we ever know this will even matter?

I find that a two-year test shows that it’s always best: give just a little tear instead of getting tattered.

Close your eyes and see the you that barely remembers
what you’re going through.

Some hurts are forever, they define us, it’s true, but most of these scars
will fade into the coming blue.

You will still your mind, let the future invade the space
that your past has left behind.

You will open your soul, just keep raising up your hands
and begging for more, and more, always more…

What does today look like when seen through tomorrow’s eyes?
How can we ever know if this will even matter?

I find that a two-year test shows that it’s always best to give just a little tear instead of getting tattered.

I want to disappear into my own body.
I want to float away on my own blood.
Where my heartbeat is the only clock,
when my eyelids can no longer lock open I’m falling…

…away from myself.
I’m cleaning all the boxes off of every shelf.
I’m turning each one cell’s brief attention span
into do-or-die, where’s the holy land?
I’m falling away…away.

Each muscle pushes back and strains against the sweet pull
Each bone gives into bent in its own alabaster way.
Soon the sails go wide with the rising tide now the ship’s on course
but the captain’s blind, I’m falling…oh, I’m falling…

…away from this place.
I’m leaving behind the rub from my disgrace.
I’m asking, will you hold my hand,
ignite the flaws, but save the damned?
I’m falling…oh, I’m falling…away…away. Away…away.

I want to disappear into my own body.
I want to float away own my own blood.
Where my heartbeat is the only clock,
when my eyelids can no longer lock open I’m falling…

Hasn’t anyone seen Roxy? I’m just trying to love by proxy.
Yes, I’m sure that it’s him she wants. Yes, I know it’s only me she haunts.

But hasn’t anyone seen Roxy? About ‘yea high and twice as foxy?
I think I know what’s got to be said to put my face right up inside her head.

Never meant for this to happen,
I just wanted to know what it was like
to touch her and feel her the way she really is
so I asked him late one night.

I should’a known that it would get him high,
wished I hadn’t, but I did,
kiss him back when he kissed me, oooh,
with his hand sliding up her leg.

Oh, won’t my Roxy give me an approximation when she’s ready for prestidigitation?
If I could just get her to say my name, then my heart wouldn’t be in flames.

But hasn’t anyone seen my Roxy? You could get high huffing on her moxie!
She’s the best thing that I’ve ever seen,
She ain’t too this, or that, she’s nice and in-between.

Give it back, what you have taken, let us start again.
Build a new normal with some abnormal slowly fitting in.
I can’t shake that what you’ve taken wasn’t yours and I’m forsaken;
so give it back-so I can make it mine again.

When it knocked me down, I tried to raise the dead.
When it looked at me, I felt its eyes inside my head.

Give it back, what you have taken, let us start again.
Build a new normal with some abnormal slowly fitting in.
I can’t shake that what you’ve taken wasn’t yours and I’m forsaken;
so give it back-so I can make it mine again.

But the world still turns around, every sunrise will sundown.

So give it back, what you’ve taken, let us start again.
We’re building a new normal-some abnormal’s fitted in.
But I can’t shake, that what you’ve taken, well…
it wasn’t yours, and without it I’m forsaken.
Oh, give it back. I’m going to make it mine. All mine, all mine…
Mine.

There is this one thing, it always lifts me.
It’s automatically, ecstatically, a gifting.
Comes from inside, wells up with no abiding
for lesser or greater things.

Oh, why can’t my life be one big song,
that haunts my waking day until the deed is done?
This day-to-day machine, it grinds me to my knees.
Why do I please it; I should be pleasing me?
We try to manifest these destinies they press upon us
before we know what’s best.

Girl, please have courage.
You never know when you won’t have time.
Oh, girl, please have courage.
You never know when you won’t have time.

Oh, why can’t my life be one big song,
that haunts my waking day until the deed is done?
The deed that is my dream,
the thing I keep so pure, it may have lost its gleam.
I never meant to lose
the time I spent waiting for luck to light my fuse.

Girl, please have courage.
You never know when you won’t have time.