"Little Victories" DWDY

An unused piece from writing and compiling for All Good Things.
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Letting another side have their win isn't losing;
it's putting aside conflict that doesn't need to happen.

National identities are no different than racism;
isn't it time we stop behaving as selfish children?

This would be a little victory.

Policies passed should be those that help people.
Laws that harm or hinder should be repealed.

A little victory, this would be.

If you say this fight's what we're supposed to be,
then I wish you'd no longer speak as one of we.

Giving another side a win isn't losing,
it's rising above conflict that doesn't need to happen.

This itself is a little victory.

And if the fight's what we're supposed to be,
then I wish to no longer be a part of we.

If sex and money is supposed to be our everything,
then I no longer wish to be one of we.

"Kalyptein (Black Ink)" Bricked Stories

Floral anniversary card tucked in the pocket; it will never see a need.

The baker in back need not knead the dough into a heart shape;

the red peppers will never spell out the words that moment was meant to.

Black envelopes arrive unwelcome in the mail.

Upon opening wounds reopen, sewing again a crop of infertile seed;

a husband's voice trickles over the land, still, the words he had always meant to.

How one moment can steal love.

Why, does one moment steal love?

Now, in this moment, still love?

I don't see the purpose.

There was no need.

Why not me?

Why not you?

You were behind the wheel!

Why not you, who does not deserve to feel

You have taken everything!

The will to fight included.

So, you win.

You win.

I have no reason left to fight: no purpose, nothing to protect.

I have failed my duties sworn; I have failed her.

You win.

You took everything.

You win.

I'd deliver you this message,

but I fear if I saw your face I would become a monster;

I am no longer a man.

And I am not above revenge.

"Surprised?" Shitty American Beer

Shitty American Beer is a project that is kind of like flypaper: picking up pieces of thrown away efforts throughout the years, where they stick around and eventually become part of the tapestry on the walls. SAB is a joke nomenclature, because people will bitch about the taste of shitty beer, but when it comes down to it they will still be drinking it at some point of the night. Most of the songs when brought over to this project take on a more punk/3-chords and an attitude type of vibe. Simple, fast, loud and fun. "Surprised?" gets is title, because it's an out of the ordinary, optimistic view of the work-first system we've been brought into. I like this attitude, and that is surprising.
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Slave, twelve hour days, six days a week
to feed the family you never see,
except while they sleep
quiet in their beds.
Unknowing, sneak a kiss on their foreheads,
and sit at their bedsides for awhile.

Sneak these moments in...
Keep these moments with...

Know that everything you give means the world,
and that of everything you give,
the most amazing is a chance.

"Housefires" Bricked Stories

This is one of the last pieces written while doing the Bricked Stories method, which is on hiatus for now. There are a few from throughout the era that exist without being used... rough, imperfect, talking songs... If the idea ever comes back to do Bricked Stories' style again, then this will be at the forefront. "Housefires" was actually the initial working title for "You Are Here" (Amount in Full) when it was conceived as an idea for a Bricked Stories set.
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When I was eleven I thought the world was made for me.
When I was eleven I thought the world lived for my needs.
I'd been named patriarch of a new Rome,
where I'd be carried on shoulders home
and will my decree with a simple wave of the hand or nod in approval.
So it was... And I was... Delusional.

When I was fifteen I thought I could live two lives.
When I was fifteen I thought I had to lead two lives.
There was a darkness let loose in me;
built up behind a screen, partitioned, where it was meant to be kept,
never allowed to rear its ugly head,
only exercising its way in dim, secret corners.
But it seeped through the cracks of the mind
and dug its claws into what a young man tries to hold tight.
So it was... And I was... Remedial.

When I was eighteen I thought I'd put an end to my dark ways.
I thought I'd found a new way to carry on through my days,
that I could be safe and never have to look into it again
or hold a light to a past better left forgotten,
or ever admit that shadows are anything more than fiction...

Now, I'm alive and can feel the shadows swell again in me:
the desire to break these legs, light a match and set fire to all dreams,
just to watch the world burn and let smoke fill our lungs.
As we drive we don't need to breathe to be.
I've always loved to just drive over the horizon,
spend hours rolling on the highwayves into a new day
where dawn illumines what could be life.
So it was... And I was...

Now I reach for a different kind of light.
One to shine on old demons and throw dark thoughts into sight,
making all from the past known.
In the light shone it cannot stir and force its harm.
It can only sit on display and fade under watchful eye.
So it was... And you are... Here you are.