For Boston
It's poison. First it feels like a prick and then it hits you like a jumbo jet. And it's Heaven. And Heaven is a place you can never find your cigarettes. For Boston. Shamrock shakes and oxycontin. Bob Cuzi. (sp?) When they say they're looking around for the O.C. they ain't talking about the T.V. Some townie has got a diamond wrapped up in a dishtowel and he's trying to do a deal with me. And he's skittish like a centipede. He's got a steak knife in his jacket sleeve. For Boston. Shamrock shakes and oxycontin. For Boston. You can find it in the corner of the Commons right by downtown crossing. All these girls at B.U., they all do it, too. They lie down on lansdowne, they lose their left shoes. These girls at B.U., they all do it too. She stumbled down lansdowne, she lost her left shoe. She lost all her friends. And she's crying and she nees a ride home. You just want it to end. She lost her new phone and she despises her friends. And when you get her back to housing, she asks you if you want to come in and get pinned. For Boston. You can solve all your problems at the Commons right by downtown crossing. For Brighton. Saint Elizabeth is sick of all your drinking and fighting. And Ralston. There are nights when you get pretty annoying.

Teenage Liberation
Seventeen was an underfunded comedy about love and drugs and girls and immortality. Most of the jokes just kind of hung around and died. Nineteen was a 90-second short about a cartoon kid who sits and drinks on his porch gets pissed. He took one good swipe at his wrists but he missed so he lived. These teenage chicks, they grow up so quick. I swear they must get sucked up by the television. And we're still losing life (lights?) in the fight for the teenage liberation. Twenty-three was a shot of straight frustration, flying down the parkways, he was dying in the bars. He mostly ate all his meals in his car. Twenty-nine was the end of the line. He stayed up for sixteen nights at a stretch, he was wrecked. You could see all the veins in his neck when he flexed. These senior class chicks, they're the easiest to kiss. They got nothing to lose and they know it. You just fill up their cup at the keg a couple times. It's pretty much up to you not to blow it. All the coolest guys have all the coolest rides, but they're colliding with the inanimation. We're still losing life (lights?) in the fight for the teenage liberation. Teenage heat is a warm and wet and heavy situation. Such sweaty exultation and so sharp penetration. All unsupervised vacation (out on supervised vacation?). Kissing boys and getting wasted. Hot and soft and generally complacent. Seventeen is an underfunded comedy.

Girls Like Status
He was drydocked in the dark up in Penetration Park. He says he's got your medication. She was sitting on the edges of his vision trying to start a revolution. He's done with all the parties. He's covered in contusions. Your laugh leaves laugh lines. Your love leaves bright bruises. She said she was cruising but she came back all bright and out-of-focus in a cool car cranking (???). Guys go for looks, girls go for status. There are so many nights when this is just how it happens. He was dreadlocked in the dorms in the Colarado corn. He says he's got your vegetation. She was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking trying to reach emancipation. And he's done with DVD's. He's fully entertained. He's bleaching out the bloodstains. He's got diamonds in the drain. She said that she was coming, but she mostly just made hard fast noises. It kinda sounded like the locusts. Guys go for looks, girls go for status. There are so many nights when this is just how it happens. (It was song number three on John's last CD. "Gonna make it through this year if it kills me." And it almost killed me. It was song number four on that first D4. You want the scars, but you don't want the war. That's just hardcore. These kids are clever to the core.) Guys go for looks, girls go for status.

Arms and Hearts
To me it just felt like six or seven seconds. But I guess we went coast-to-coast. To me it didn't seem all that holy. I guess he might've been that ghost. And I'm not saying that he came off all that hot, he burned a hole in me eventually. I been mostly living in the center of your most holy trinity. So maybe now you might go out with me. 'Cuz I got so much positivity. And I got so much positivity. There were amber waves of grain and hawks and russel thrushes. There were seratonin rushes. There was purple mountain majesty above that polluted plain. There were diamonds in the drain. To me, we didn't seem all that much better when he went and climbed up on that cross. To me, you didn't seem all that much like a princess, with your bandaged hand and your hacking cough. Arms and hearts and alcohol and faith. We pull each other in, we push it all away. There were crosses and crushes, crashes and hassles. We were kissing in the Center, while the band played "Ice Cream Castles". Arms and hearts and alcohol and death. She was awkward and thoughtful, ascending into Heaven dripping wet.

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