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I am special. I'm a special guy. Tiny feelings, tiny impulses. Kind of worthless how the time does fly when every hour I've watched you sit and cry. I was placing orders like a weekend warrior. I was worried when you wouldn't pick up the phone. Sitting up in bed spitting all over myself, no tone in my head. My head. I've committed many heinous acts. I have pondered what it would be like to have murdered all my closest friends. I deserve you. You deserve the truth. Girls, they are so fragile; they don't know what I mean. They don't know what it's like when I shoot up my feelings. Life will take you over, so I push it aside. I don't want to live, I don't want to die. I can sit inside and ponder what it was like when I was seventeen and I didn't need this, but I was never fragile; I was never aware of the tone in my head. My head. So when you're sleeping in the summer heat, I hope you're dreaming and you dream of me, and all you're dreaming becomes a fever scene until you're screaming to get out that dream.

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from The Spirit Of The Beehive, released September 21, 2014

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ice age records Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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