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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


from Culture of Self, released June 10, 2007


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Dan Jacob Wallace Chicago, Illinois

composer, songwriter, (sometimes) guitarist

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