A birthday song I made for my friend on garageband
- - - -

You light up to ignite the hair on your lip
That streams out and wraps around your hollow lid
Sit before a screen to let a beat fit
Chemical sensation brings creation to your finger tips

A pair of thrift store headphones crown your red head
Sound waves that tickle with a click will internally spread
Through the chains of the veins that carefully thread
The stained brain of a kid whom I'm blessed to call friend

Far Far Far Far Far
You're so far away
Miss you you you
But let's celebrate

Jared's 20th

A song for my dear friend, Rika. Happy birthday.

Rika's Song

I wanted to write a love song with the word "baby" in it a lot 
- - - -

Run into the van quickly as you can 
They'll catch us if they can 'n' throw us in the can baby

We've had a master plan since our love began baby 
I am from Japan and you're a cute American

We were at a bank withdrawing someone elses money 
Triggering a bang, six dozen bags of sweet honey

Race across the land, sirens chase are van baby 
Waving our hands to let our birdy stand baby

*

They lead us downtown, our options cutting down. We are 
Running out of routes so I kiss you on the mouth baby

They lead us to the pound, the swelling siren sounds baby 
Guns bust out and they order us to face down

*Hauling toward the grapefruit sky 
Helicopter's chopping at the hindsight 
Don't you know they want us cuffed?

Hauling toward the grapefruit sky 
Black and white lead us through red night 
Don't you know they want us cuffed for life?

Grapefruit Sky

the hair on his chin
grows black and thick
the sky scrapers that flutter
from his eye lids

they flick, they flick, they flick

the brown in her eyes
like what she saw
her lips gripped his lips
in the form of love

she did, she did, she did

electric, electric, electric fingers
detected, connected, affects still lingers
electric, electric, electric fingers
what will he do when she's gone to taiwan?

his knuckles are white
from clutching tight
the wheel is wearing raw
'cause he misses her a lot

he cries, he cries, he cries

her knuckles are white
from clutching tight
now in taiwan
she books an early flight

she flies, she flies, she flies
she flies home

Kronk's Song

We are limited to only garageband for now.


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