Pay my taxes,
punch the clock,
Raise my own hell,
don’t do you no harm.
Get off my back man,
take a minute,
hurry up!
Last cigarette,
I promise.
Running around,
pure electricity,
Keys in the front door,
sweet relief.
A day in the wilderness,
calm release.
Otherwise, its the bourgeois maze.
Gotta form a plan,
get out.
Eternal freedom,
no doubts.
Valparaiso
For you,
I’d learn to write love songs in Spanish,
Sonnets in Italian,
Haikus in Portugese.
The kindest disposition,
Warm hands, tender lips.
For you,
I write love notes in the morning,
Dance all evening,
And sing until my voice has gone.
The night is young, this moment’s fleeting,
We roam the city while its sleeping.
For you,
I’ll brave the cold, the rain,
Climb cliffs to sit hand in hand,
Hearts open, love flowing.
Lost in the Desert
(Tom Pearce, Photographed by: Yours Truly)
Curiosity gets the better of us, a barbed fence away and we’re hand in hand running out in the open,
Plains melting into the rockformations, feet melting into the plains.
Bees nests, prickly grass, snake holes, and not much else for miles,
Untouched by greed and unnecessary cruelty,
True civilization.
At the Sea
(Yours Truly, Photographed by: Tom Pearce)
Watch me tightrope walking,
Far above the great abyss,
One with all and nothingness.
Juggling the knives left in my side for sport,
Sun rising like blood pressure, ’til it’s boiling hot,
Readymade excuses, laid out all for naught.
Come have another gin,
Dance, dance, dance on the edge with me,
Clinging to the last of civility.
Your Love
sea meets mountains
birds swirl about for morning meals
the sky hangs sweet, mellow
and I am lying on a cliff
enveloped in your love
(Dés)accord
Tout ce que je peux écrire, ce sont des chansons d’amour,
Rien n’est parfait, les choses semblent toujours sans valeur parfois,
mais j’écris des chansons d’amour,
L’argent est jeté par les fenêtres et les factures restent, mais est-ce important si nous nous embrassons au printemps?
Je déteste ça, mais tu remplis ma tête de mélodies rimées,
Même quand je suis agacé ou déprimé,
Un câlin et je nage dans les métaphores et les tonalités majeures.
Alors je prends une demi-heure seule pour mijoter, jusqu’à ce que je sois à nouveau ravi par toi.
Hayden Winston 
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