flashfireuntitledand i saw youwither like the wickof my candle -the one that lights my wayto my bedroom.you know, honey, i don't mean to be cruel;your violent tremorsaccompanied by your tearsare witnessedby me -in me -too.i left you on my nightstandall nightand i didn't think twiceabout stopping the burningit all happened in a flashfireof my mindfirst: engulfed the tablenext: downed whole my coverslast: enraptured completely my selfoh and it seeredoh and it piercedoh and you burned me - third degree.iam now ashesihave no regretsyou -you devious candle.you symbol,you sign ofall i've burdened myself with,and ihave no regretsand icannot regretand isee not regressionam iblinded byfireonceagain?
half-greatnessuntitleddo you know what it's liketo achieve half-greatness?can you fathom it;would you borrow itif you were in need,because I wouldlend it to you.i'll lose it anyway.
voice- by emichanuntitledit's all in the voicethat you carry frominner-far lands toouter-near lands.are you strong?weak?emo?stoic?can you project,or do you rely onmachine..or even human?i can tellfrom your voice.can you?
love - by emi-chanlovehelp meto help me,don't aid mein dying.euthanasiais kind ofillegal.
fruitionuntitledIf I were self-contained,You wouldn't be hearing me out.If you think I am insane,Darling, you wouldn't be sharing the air with me.But for all I know, you could be playing that game of civility.Either way, darling, you will hear me shout -My candles had begun to burn purple.Just had to show me the way to the throne.Forgot all the hardship of my people.But my King still left me all alone-- The cold stone on the throne was unbearable until thePhone started to tread on thin glass.Damn, I thought you knew more than toJust let it crackle me, still I ran fast...All just to capture you humming a doubting tune.Oh, mister Johnny,I'm not detatched.In fact, it seems to meThat your head is tilting a little bit crookedly.Like all your hypocrite-self, you're leaning way too close into me.Sorry, man; my baby Fruition has hatched.
y equals sine of xy=sin(x)I was home by noonso I turned to call youand what a surprisethat i found a lonely tunesurviving (on its own)in my radioI couldn't place just wheremy thoughts would goand had I been ableI could'veknownhow much I would havethrown away just to stayin your grasp, lovebut i happily severedall connections throughthe airwaves, lovestill, it pained meto shut your voice... up.up, down, up downpoints of inflectionriddle me defenselessfeed on my attentionwon't you ride on mymood swing, lovehow much will I throw away?just to stayin your graspi still dread the endeavorto severall connectionsin these airwaves...and these airwaves...finally quiet down'cause I shut your voiceupturn the dial, love
shoes - yuckShoeMart - Lots o shoesThere is no perfect shoe. It is just not possible for any one store-bought piece of footwear to fit exactly right. Either it is too long, too short, too narrow, too wide, too anything. And this is always true; what infinitesimal room of "doesn't fit" may be undetectable, but it's there. On top of that, everyone's foot is unique... even from its pain. How can a mass-produced, impersonal work of capitalism possibly hope to match the curvatures of any one person's foot?! Even with all the different available sizes, there is a large room for error. And what about the heel of the shoe? Some don't even attempt to hold the actual heel of the foot in the shoe. The object becomes obsolete, and any further arguments from my opponents are voided. And don't forget the comfort factor - I mean, why submit yourself to useless agony just to please the fashion god of the present minute? (The next best thing could show up at any moment! Be prepared!) So, now, what have my
untitled song of grruntitledDon't tell me not to fight.You know I'll just push harder,But that's okay, 'cause you've got power:The power over me.and I give inso easyjust turn off your brain.give me a spin.you know you'd like to.how does it feel to have thefinal say?I must commend you;I cannot say... of course how can IYou've finally pulled some|»respect you?|_ respect from me...when all I feelYou think it's real.is tremblingIt makes you gleam;|»from when you scream.|_ you just might screami crywith joy.and you care?of course,I bet you think that you do.You can't see how I can be so rude.|»and what do you do?|_ and what do you do?You make another rule.for me, to defyfor you, to make me cry|»for a safe and happy home...|_ for a safe and happy home...
out-of-larynx experienceOut-of-Larynx ExperienceI wish I couldplay the guitar.then I could sing likethose people on the radio.I wouldn't have tomake my own chordswith my own voice.I could just hum -hum in harmony!In harmony, with myguitar.I wonder what it's liketo hear yourselfon the radio?