There's rows and rows of house, with windows painted blue.

With the light from the t.v. running parallel to you.
But there is no sunken treasure, rumored to be.
Wrapped inside my ribs in a sea black with ink.
I am so out of tune with you, I am so out of tune with you.
If I had a mountain, I'd try to fold it over.
If I had a boat, you know I'd probably roll over.
And I leave it on the shore, I'd leave it for somebody.
Surely there's somebody who needs it more than me.
I am so out of tune with you, I am so out of tune with you.
All the leaves will burn and autumn fires then return.
All the fires we burn, all will return.
Music is my savior, and I was maimed by rock and roll.
I was maimed by rock and roll.
I was tamed by rock and roll.
I got my name from rock and roll.


My sense of humor is a little strange, to say the least. I make references to things that only I know about. I say things that I know the other person won't get unless they are on the exact same page as me, which is a pretty damn difficult page to find. This is never more painfully obvious than when I meet someone new. I used to be a very shy guy. I put a lot of effort into overcoming that when I meet people, but it is really hard when I have nothing to say, because no one is going to get it if I open my mouth.


Currently Listening to
Being There
by Wilco