You crack me up, over and over. love, your mom.

willows

If You'll Be There For Me Too

Lyrics:
How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?
How do I tell you when you're standing at my door?
And you wanna come in
And it's raining outside

How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?
How do I tell you when you're walking through my door?
Won't you come right inside?
Baby sit down and rest those eyes

How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?
When it's 4: 00 in the morning and you're banging on my door?
Won't you let me inside?
I'm afraid of being alone

How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?
When I said that I missed you I wasn't lying I just wasn't sure
Now I've made up my mind (but then again)
I've said that seventeen times

How do I tell you I don't love you anymore?
How do I tell you when you're standing at my door?
And you wanna come in
And it's raining outside

(See I always said that I'd miss you, babe if I tried)

Interviewee

How Do I Tell

Piano by Victoria Park
Mastered by Eric Benoit

So now I've learned all of the reasons to exist
And plus I've spent a hot minute corroborating it 
No, I will never wish harm upon my health
Still I would like the universe to leave me somber by myself
I'll breathe fire to cut down all the trees
Use 'em to build a sanctuary home, a noble house for me 
Is all this lazy love necessary? 
Sorry friends
I'm a jerk
Do good work

I won't pick up the phone 

These days there's not as much skunk smoke in my breath
And I've stayed quiet since my eighth grade dynamite death
But still I think I know exactly what you mean
It's just that I've been petrified of people ever since I was thirteen
And I am four years older than that now
And I still haven't died yet and it's a wonder to me how God really seems to want us all to stay alive
But I don't know if God is real, I really can't make up my mind
My soul will sleep in incandescent fever songs
I'll play the guitar and my idea of God can sometimes sing along and if I can't live off of that on its own
Goodbye God
I'm not here
I'm not home

But still this putrid purity, though it plagues me, is my own

Now I have very real life skills
I don't know how I'll go about adult functions like paying bills
I never learned how to read a map, but as long as I make music is it arbitrary to know all that crap?
See my eternity sadness expand and as soon as I commence its collapse, I can be a moral man
And though it isn't wise to walk off misery,
I'll walk it off

I Won't Pick Up The Phone

Cutie
Artwork: https://www.bhg.com/shop/zatista-fine-and-contemporary-art-abstract-jazz-original-painting-p0eb91fce7d71e79a831ba9d09571e0ba.html

Special (One Day Tape)

Exciting, energetic yet contemplative composition

Woodwind Quintet - Calling Out For Clarity

A Phrase Of My One And Only Love

I wake up on my side and my ear is stuck to itself.
I heat up mashed potatoes and I go for the salt on the shelf but there's no salt anymore.
I walk up to the window but I can't seem to figure out the blinds.
I have to write this paper but frustration has colonized my mind and there's no thoughts anymore.

I'm so lost. I'm so lost.

I wanna be a snowman but this carrot won't fit inside my nose.
I went to costume parties but I always had inappropriate clothes.
I have no fun anymore.
I want--always--to see you but I fear that my hair has grown too long.
I'd like to be a writer but it took me a year to write this song and it was better before.

I'm so scared, so beware.

Blockage

Photo: Dillon (support them at dillon.darkroom.tech)

I'm a little horse whose name is Freddie Brorse
And I'm known to my friends as Harry
I shuffle all day and I shuffle all night, and I bet you think you're pretty

Tweedle deedle dee on the old gum tree
Tweedle or my name ain't Bobby
Tweedle all day and a-tweedle all night, and I bet you think you're dandy

They rode me to the docks, thought they'd buy me a pet rock
But they only bought stationary
I've got a muzzled make, you could eat me like a cake, oh, but that won't be necessary

Tweedle deedle dee on the old gum tree
Tweedle or my name ain't Bobby
Tweedle all day and a-tweedle all night, and I bet you think you're dandy

Little Horse

Jazz Piano/Songwriter. Follow me if you want! Email me at eliasdourian@gmail.com or yodang2@gmail.com.

Blockage

bikini amish

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