Unfinished Song Lyrics

Exactly what it sounds like. Song lyrics and the occasional poem written by a chic who can’t carry a tune. All lyrics are available for use with permission.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

I’m not immune to a trend

If I don’t take you to Bangladesh

Will you get on a plane and go there anyway?

Will you get oiled up like an olive and cry in the small of a Bollywood ball of

handsome men with handsome fees?

If I don’t make you a marzipan

Will you call my mother up and claim I ran?

Over her mailbox and my neighbor’s trees,

as an accomplice to Oprah and when she goes full supernova—

You’ll jump out and start that thing I know you do with the bee-ee-ee-ees?

It’s not that I don’t care—

But I’ll admit I’m kind of scared.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

June 22

I’m tired of eating out of cans,

I’m tired of Dollar tree dinner plans,

I’m tired of the man who doesn’t understand that 750 doesn’t last two weeks

I’m tired of princes who sit under trees and blame me—

Release your desires

Sweat!

Work until you perspire because 750 doesn’t last two weeks

And I’ve got a rage that is fueled by my wage and the effort of trying to bridge the gap between making it and dying…

And I am so tired. I am so tired. I don’t know what to do with myself.

AHhhhhhHhhhhhhhhhh (melodic screaming)

I’m tired of dumpster diving and having my mother saying I’m thriving. I’m barely surviving and getting by.

Now I’m 33 and look at me. I’m covered in scars and driving beat up cars. I am so tired. I am so tired. I don’t know what to do with myself.

(Melodic screaming)

And it’s my fault that diamonds are crying and it’s my fault that bowling is dying

And it’s my fault because I’m not trying hard enough to suffer more,

And they say it’s my fault that Outback has fried,

And they say it’s my fault that the president lies and apparently it’s my fault because I don’t try hard enough to suffer more.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

You only love me as a thing

That does what you need

As soon as I’m human

You want to leave.

As soon as I get scared

You say you’re not prepared

Every time that I care

You say we’ll have to agree to disagree

Maybe there’s something wrong with me

Every one else seems to fit just fine

But every corner of the world makes me uncomfortable.

No matter how I try to fit something is always jamming in my side

I’m so exhausted. I’m so fatigued.

I want to go home but I don’t even know where that means. My therapist tells me this feelings suicide but I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to be here with you and all the people who think like you do.

I just want it to be different. I just want it the same. As the story you told me when you told me where I was born was a place with a name. And if it can’t be so then I just want to go.

I just want to leave.

I just want to grieve.

I just want to leave.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

I am God

At least the god “that provides”

I am the compassion that saves you

I am the driver of things, the plucker of angels from trees. The person who answers your prayers.

The person who makes good things obtainable in this world because I care.

I am not alone. There are hundreds and thousands of us gods. A full pantheon of miracle makers—and yet you squeal with glee as we die. You delight in the imprisonment of us. You steal from us. You make us sick and injure us.

And yet still you continue to pray to us to save you. You do not save yourself. You sit in churches and tell each other to wait. “God will provide,” you say.

How? How can the heavens reach you when you have torn their wings? How can I hear you if my ears bleed? How can I see what you need if you have blinded me?

You have killed the divinity in this world with your own hands. You have made a world with no God. Now you must live in it.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

I’m convinced that those who prefer winter are suicidal because how could you prefer the feel of death? The slow and unstoppable deterioration of your cells to the elements? The inevitable shut down of everything that makes you a source of warmth and life? You prefer that?

“Ah no you see you can get cozy under layers by the fire…” you bleat. I cut you off sharp like the rap of a shepherd’s crook.

A fire is just portable summer. A cheap imitation of spring. A substitute with the same dancing atomic mystery as the sun fueled by the corpse of trees. The fibers of a blanket the remnants of that verdant season. If that is what you like then you prefer a precarious purchased summer not winter.

Winter is death. Winter is the dying of the world. The turning of the face of the Earth against the Sun. A denial of life. It is starvation and hypothermia. It is gasps of suffering leaving the body in misty plumes.

No one that has ever truly lived in the reality of the world prefers winter.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Pre Check

Call your god damn senator. Your stupid thank you can’t feed my dog.

I work 40 hours a week and I deserve to get paid to do my job.

And if that makes you uncomfortable you can go ahead and catch your flight.

Because nothing I’ve just said is wrong and you know that I’m right.

Going to Disneyland while I starve is some fucking 1 percent.

I haven’t eaten lunch in weeks and I’m down to my last few cents.

You aren’t absolved from my exploitation because you perform fleeting gratitude. I’m happy if that insults you. I’m keeping my bad attitude.

I’m hungry. I’m tired and scared.

Those things breed resentment so you better be prepared.

I’m not going to smile or tell you to have a nice flight. You’re contributing to my suffering and I want you out of my sight.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

If I kill the ꉣꋪꍟꌗꀤꀸꍟꈤ꓄ would it set things right?

I don’t really want to do it but I’m tired of this fight…

…to convince you that empathy is something good for you.

You’re so fucking high on cruelty that I don’t know what to do.

It almost seems like you’re under some spell so if I beat the wizard. If he was defeated if he fell…

…would you wake up?

If you wake up…

…then maybe we can make up.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

We don’t have to fit together to be together. We don’t have to make sense to touch. You can have a piece that jabs and I can have a piece that jives and maybe they work and maybe they collide. Maybe that’s just part of being alive.

Maybe we’re not puzzle pieces. Maybe we’re just people and I like you and you like me. Maybe that is enough to be.

Puzzles aren’t complete with just two pieces after all. They’re more fun with more. For us they’re a bad metaphor.

Maybe we’re two leaves hanging out on the same tree until one of us has to catch a breeze.

Maybe we’re pollen and dust enjoying some nose out there before a sneeze.

Maybe we’re a freckle and a mole on the same hand. Maybe we’re something we can’t understand.

I like you even if it we don’t fit or don’t match. I like you for you. You’re unique in the batch.

I like the parts that are weird and the parts that are great. There is no part of you I don’t appreciate.

I’ll continue liking you for as long as I’m able. Whether that lasts a long time or something more unstable.

So don’t ask if we fit because I’m sure that we don’t but if you think that might matter to me I can assure it won’t.

You’re the shape that you are in the way you appear.

I love you. I like you. I’m glad that you’re here.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Bystanders

How long do I have to pretend that this is normal? Your exploitation of me?

Suffering in silence for your comfort so you don’t have to see. What is happening in this country to people like me. We bleed we cry so you don’t have to ask why.

You’re a Bystander just standing there. Like the other bystanders everywhere. A bystander who doesn’t care. You say I’ll pretend not to see because it’s got nothing to do with me.

You pat my back and say It will get better.

Bitch???

Better for who?

Better for you?

You say thank you for doing this thank you for pulling through as if my standing here isn’t in spite of you.

You’re a Bystander just standing there. Like the other bystanders everywhere. A bystander who doesn’t care. You say I’ll pretend not to see because it’s got nothing to do with me

And just once just once I wish that it was normal to place your fellow man over your own comfort.

And just once just once I wish that caring was a verb and not an adjective.

And just once just once I wish America could change how we live.

Just once just once I wish it were different…

But there are too many Bystanders just standing there. Like the other bystanders everywhere. You’re bystander who doesn’t care. You say I’ll pretend not to see because it’s got nothing to do with me.

How long do I have to pretend that this is normal? Your exploitation of me?

Suffering in silence for your comfort so you don’t have to see. What is happening in this country to people like me. We bleed we cry so you don’t have to ask why.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Bass Master

You roll up to the hood hacking nasty like you dip spit. No one at the intersection wants to listen to your bullshit. My grandma is in her Buick listening to Mozart then you roll up next to her and you sound like a wet fart…

(insert raspberry bass noise) yeah, you sound like a big fart (raspberry bass) you sound like a big fart.

When you pull up with that bass you don’t seem smart. No one likes you because you sound like a big fart.

Yeah, you love your bass because you think it’s a stud pass but the women in your life take out the b and all your left with jack. (Ass)

You souped up that ride so much you could call it Progresso but am I impressed? I gotta say hell no.

Boy you sound like a wet fart. Yeah you sound like a wet fart. Ass cheeks clapping and ripping apart. When you pull up with that bass your ride sounds like a big fart.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

My Type

NICE is an acronym

- Neurotic

- Incel

- Coercive

- Egotistical

I’m not into NICE guys. I’m into GREAT guys.

- Generous

- Responsible

- Engaging

- Affectionate

- Thoughtful

That’s my type. So if you’re just NICE and not a GREAT guy then BYE

- Boy

- You’re

- Eww

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Lisa

You taught me to hate my body because you hate your’s and misery loves company, but I can’t bring myself to. I can only grow to hate you.

And I hate that you think the truth is a jagged edge that only you can make.

And I hate that you’re so stupid that you’re making this mistake

And I hate that you take a strand of every single vice and you tie it into knots and call it “Good advice.”

And I hate that you stubbornly refuse to move from where you are as if a failure to grow up is an essential part of who you are and I hate this.

I hate that I hate you. Hate decays into sorrow, and I cry myself sleep every night just to wake up tomorrow.

And I get up. I look in the mirror and the me that I see is the person that I thought I always wanted to be.

Lisa, you’re not my mother people who mother raise kids is love.

People like my father who calls every morning just to make sure I’m breathing. He wants me alive. You want my silence. You want me to be silent.

I wore a dress I felt pretty in and you couldn’t stand for that so you Kermit in the corner just to imply I’m fat. I’m not doing enough to take my vitamins so that’s why I’m sick. I’m covered in cuts that you help make that turn into scabs that you can’t help but pick.

Lisa, why is it like that? Why can’t I be fat ugly and old? Why can’t I hunger when I am hungry? Why can’t you love me if I don’t do as I’m told?

And I hate you because you hate your mother too. I hate you because that makes me just like you. I’m a woman stuck in a cycle that will never be through unless I work hard or die trying.

God damn it! I don’t want to be stuck in the system where I might end up dying.

And Lisa why is it like this? What did I miss? Who can I blame? When I go to a restaurant and look at the menu, I just want to eat food without feeling shame.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

I’ve never had a bad kiss before you

And I didn’t know what to do…

My head screamed “Do something!” but my heart felt nothing

—and I feel ashamed and a little confused because you are a very nice dude and I really wish that I could love you…

…but the heart doesn’t work that way despite you saying you have feelings for me that are growing every day. I stand tall and I watch you fall and it doesn’t make a difference at all.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Mockingbird

Get your own song Mockingbird

Oh I forgot that’s not how it works. You’re nothing without the others birds. You’ve got to watch them sing it first.

Then you sit up on your steeple and mock everyone you hate and the people down below love you so much they let you represent the state

Oh mockingbird I’ve heard that it’s a sin to shoot you down from the sky but I wonder why? When I can easily kill the source of the sound of your stolen cry?

The crows, the grackles, the pigeons and the jays. You call them all pests that overshot the welcome of their stay. And yet you sing their songs every night and day. It’s funny how some birds are loved yet we chase the others away.

Oh mockingbird I’ve heard that it’s a sin to shoot you down from the sky but I wonder why? When I can easily kill the source of the sound of your stolen cry?

We try to lock them up in cages. We only feed them seeds. We stop them from migrating to the very homes they need. We beat them off with sticks. We scare them with a shout. Mockingbirds are welcome in the garden but we want the others out.

Oh mockingbird I’ve heard that it’s a sin to shoot you down from the sky but I wonder why? When I can easily kill the source of the sound of your stolen cry?

Get your own song Mockingbird. Oh I forgot that’s not how it works. You’re nothing without the other birds you’ve got to watch them sing it first.

But when all of them are gone. When all those birds die. Whose song will you steal then for your stolen cry?

Who Mockingbird?

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

I feel sometimes as I’ve become older that I’ve become harder to love—at least statistically. Mathematically. If loving me was an equation I’m probably a lot more complicated than I used to be.

When I was a child I was easy to love because I had potential. I could be anything an adult imagined me to be so pouring love into me was easy. I was quiet and anxious which made me obedient so I never disappointed those expectations.

In my teens I was even easier. Still quiet, still well behaved, still brimming with potential but now I had a body, a woman’s body, and that expanded my potential further still. Oh boy how I sparked the imagination.

In my 20s my potential dimmed. I disappointed people. I cut my hair off and wore boyish clothes. I failed. I made people angry and got hurt as a consequence. Suddenly I was uncomfortable.

Now I’m in my 30s and I have no potential. I am exactly what I appear to be. I am not quiet or obedient but still hurt—still anxious. I am aging. My face shows everything. I have never been more uncomfortable

I don’t know which to grieve more. The fact that I’m harder to love or the fact that so few have the capacity to love someone difficult.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

Her room is powder blue and lacy

She is a dreamer, kind of spacey

Believes in ghosts and Edgar Casey but more than anyone she knows how to save me, when I am at my worst and spinning out she’ll say “oh you’re stuck in Jupiter right now. I’ll help you figure out a way back down to Earth.”

Buttered popcorn, orange soda, oh I wish how I could show ya how the scent of such simple things makes me feel at home. Chanel no. 5 and a soft silk duvet. Watching Dr. Zhivago as the day drifts away…

…and as our ice melts in the glass, I glance at her and I don’t have to ask,

If I’m liked, if I’m loved, if I’ll be anyone someday. With her I’m just me and that’s okay.

Judy truly is the best gal that I’ve ever known. Judy truly makes me feel like I’m never alone.

And that’s why more than my mother she is mine. The most unconditional love that I can find. Her soul is forever on my mind. If only I could be half as kind.

Judy truly is the best woman I’ve ever known. With Judy truly I feel like I’m coming home.

[unfinishedsonglyrics]

A 6.2 difference

With you I bled.

On the inside, not metaphorically

On the outside, my skin bursting into craters like the moon.

With you the doctors did not believe the little creatures on my phone when they held up the cornucopia of fruits they had collected as evidence. Exhibit A that she is trying sir. Each morsel 10000 steps or more.

With you I could not understand why my body believed showers were for crying. Why the thought of making dinner felt like standing on the edge of somewhere tall brain set on falling.

You were good by the standards of the world. A kind man who brought me cups of water. But women are not houseplants to be tended to if only you remember.

We are people and our bodies speak to us in strange ways.