My cover of Brand New's "Untitled #1 (Good Man)".

Untitled #1 (Good Man)(Brand New cover)

The American Scream (Alkaline Trio cover)

Where Is My Mind? ( old Pixies Cover)

Made Real (Firewood)
I've got these strings to hold me down
A heart made of wood that doesn't make a sound
A carpenter watching his life's work crash it all into the ground
I had this nose that kept on growing
My cricket conscience must have died
All the blue fairies in this world couldn't bring this sorry boy to life
Cause I wasn't real 
My body is better off as something that could warm a wounded soul
So take your ax and split me open
Firewood to warm your home
I'd gladly burn if only for minutes I'd keep you warm for one last time
And burn to ashes finally knowing I finally had my chance to shine
To be made real
I'm at your gates but they won't open
I've been knocking all day long
I tried to climb, but it's too high and I'm too tired
I'm at your gates but they won't open
I've been knocking all night long
I tried to climb, but it's too high and I'm too tired
So, just let me in
I won't sin again

Firewood (Made Real)

Made Real (Firewood)

You stayed stuck on the top shelf, branded with the crossbones
Warning to leave you alone, and
I grew tired of the same routine, same chemicals
Figured I'd give you a try.
Just like a dog, now that I've tasted your blood 
I don't seem to think much of anything anymore, and
I stay chained to the bed-frame playing the prayer game
Just for a hint of relief.
Did I leave Christ on the cross to long
to be set free from this burden that is killing me?
Or is the curves of your bottle or the danger that you pose to my body
and my God-forsaken soul?
I try to stitch up everything I tear apart 
Just to be damned with the need to tear it all up again.
I don't want to fall; I just want to crawl back in the stained-glass in pieces down at my feet. 
Is it not enough that you have my heart?
Is it not enough that you have my soul?
Just let it go.

From the Racks and Stacks It's the Best on Wax

From the Racks and Stacks It's the Best on Wax (Rough Mix)

LITTLE HUMMINGBIRD
You hover like a ghost 
Taking sips of candy blood
You’re just a mosquito with a song, but I can’t help but sing along
Too Scared to let them close 
Up to the power-lines you go
Your tiny bones were filled with holes before they all began to show
Little Hummingbird will sing 
With broken wings, a chipping beak
Melodies so soft and sweet, They'll echo through eternity
Your rosy throat was drying out 
Your feathers scattered all about
You slept in the day they all flew south, now you’re too weak to get off the ground 
You waited for the rain
To come and wash the gray away
To put the color back in everything
But, the rain, it never ever came.

Little Hummingbird (Rough Mix)

You said my prayers don't reach the ceiling. Your words don't make it up to God. What makes you think he would even listen or care to give you a response? Cause everything you do is evil, you can't hide those horns up on your head from me. You will never find fitting halo or wings strong enough to lift you off of your feet. 
Oh, what a joy I've grown to be. I disappear when you're asleep. I roam the neighborhood alone, from Nathan Thaxton to Glen Echo. From 36 to 36, I've done damage I know that I could fix, but I never will. I filled that hole inside my chest with empty love and cigarettes, I hung some crosses on the wall to remind myself to call. You moved away, your feelings changed, and I'm left hoping for the sound your feathers and when you'll come down from in the clouds to pull my body from the ground. 
No common sense, a barbed-wire fence. My blood and yours must not have mixed. So, break the glass of our great past and stomp your feet until you're dizzy with relief.

Jackson's Finest

You said my prayers don't reach the ceiling, my words don't make it up to God. What makes you think he would even listen or care to give you a response? Cause everything you do is evil, you can't hide those horns up on your head from me. You will never find fitting halo or wings strong enough to lift you off of your feet. 
Oh, what a joy I've grown to be. I disappear when you're asleep. I roam the neighborhood alone, from Nathan Thaxton to Glen Echo. From 36 to 36, I've done damage I know that I could fix, but I never will. I filled that hole inside my chest with empty love and cigarettes, I hung some crosses on the wall to remind myself to call. You moved away, your feelings changed, and I'm left hoping for the sound your feathers make and when you'll come down from in the clouds to pull my body from the ground. 
No common sense, a barbed-wire fence. My blood and yours must not have mixed. So, break the glass of our great past and stomp your feet until you're dizzy with relief.

DreamGrandCentral

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