(I Wish You Were Here, from Reminiscence, 2008-2010)
Like all good things we had to put an end to this. Sorry to be said, without you I'd be dead. Set to stone, farewell you drone, now let's kick the road and go ...home. Bury me with a ton of trees, but not from ones which haven't fallen. Pick these (points to some dead trees), and if there's a house to be built, build it instead. For real, this time and the next, there's better use for waste, better taste for your haste, and sugary toothpaste (it hurts to tell you this).
I was never good at any of this, you know it better than me. I'm just, a just a little bit; a tweed and tot, havenot and forgot. I am history to me, and to you I am a past which is hidden by your shadow. For me, and to you, for I am growth that happens beyond your eye, like fungus, mushroom bloom and dances in your childhood room. Never to say what I am about to say, again, yes, with reverb and hiss, a little off the top, and always off the topic. I wish, you pray, one day, we, will, be this, transform to that, and grow like roots, digging toes into a sinking sands of a tide-washed beach. 1 and 2, a 3, a four, and a 1, 2, 3, FOUR, you know the score, let's do this to the fullest (let's do it hardcore).
Again my friend, you know the drill, with matching vannypacks and bootstraps. Panty hoes and low-blows. Oh! if anyone knows how this goes, it just has to be you, I know it is you, all blue, all red, all yellow, and all black (& white). For your delight, at your disposal, my face, your western front, and we're getting all quiet, before our storm.
Come on baby, hit me (just once, and again, one more time).