Insomnia
from Culture of Self by Dan Jacob Wallace
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lyrics
pop your nightly pill, it’s dark and static-filled
slowly you dawn upon yourself
a light so bright you melt, slowly you flow
back to your head, a river stuck in bed
treading the wake of brainwave mistakes
and now the midnight bird will sing
of the things that no one sees
she’ll stitch a map across your eye
so you could go there every night
where does it begin? where does anything begin?
if you let her in, your brass eye will see again
i don’t want to be, don’t want to ever been
don’t want to try, don’t wanna’ hear
or think of here or there, i just wanna’ drift
to live in mist, to spread out like a myth
finding lost thoughts wherever they are
and then the midnight bird will sing
of the troubles she has seen
i’ll let her implant me with scenes
watch them grow through me like bones
that’s how it begins, sometimes colors turn to plans
oh, what a release when a sound turns into me
and when the midnight bird has sung
of the things no one has done
i’ll let her in, i’ll be her host
i’ll be her shell, i’ll be her ghost
oh, morning is long, more than half of him is scarred
oh, morning will cry if he learns how much i hide
slowly you dawn upon yourself
a light so bright you melt, slowly you flow
back to your head, a river stuck in bed
treading the wake of brainwave mistakes
and now the midnight bird will sing
of the things that no one sees
she’ll stitch a map across your eye
so you could go there every night
where does it begin? where does anything begin?
if you let her in, your brass eye will see again
i don’t want to be, don’t want to ever been
don’t want to try, don’t wanna’ hear
or think of here or there, i just wanna’ drift
to live in mist, to spread out like a myth
finding lost thoughts wherever they are
and then the midnight bird will sing
of the troubles she has seen
i’ll let her implant me with scenes
watch them grow through me like bones
that’s how it begins, sometimes colors turn to plans
oh, what a release when a sound turns into me
and when the midnight bird has sung
of the things no one has done
i’ll let her in, i’ll be her host
i’ll be her shell, i’ll be her ghost
oh, morning is long, more than half of him is scarred
oh, morning will cry if he learns how much i hide
credits
from Culture of Self,
released June 10, 2007
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Dan Jacob Wallace Chicago, Illinois
composer, songwriter, (sometimes) guitarist
NOTE: On streaming services, I'm listed as "Dan Wallace."
Buy physical CDs at Ko-fi.
discography
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Jul 2023 -
Mar 2010 -
Jun 2008 -
Jun 2007 -
Feb 2006 -
Sep 2004
contact / help
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