Sofa Stop

from by Thom Weeks

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I lost my mind in a hotel in Tokyo
Emptied the contents of my stomach onto a machine wash Kimono
Praying to god
Heaving late night coffee
Both palms against the wall
I lost my faith at the end of her funeral
Oh, cheer that nine strong crowd
They worked in her adjacent cubicle
There is no god
No late night nothing
This far from home
Regretfully, there's nothing else to do
Than play guitar
Get high, call in sick
and waste my days with you
I woke alone
In a single room with a view
Up on the stage I ooze self indulgence
Selling my lack of tact to an inebriated audience
Aching to fuck
Doesn't life tear you up?
So keep you anxiety at bay from your confidence
and I'll try to slur you to bed if I can will the common sense
I'm not good at that stuff
I thin I think too much
Replay the simplest of conversations
Until it's overblown
I'll rip my tongue straight from my mouth before you know
In the end there's nothing I'd rather do
Than stay inside, get high
Write a hundred breathless songs about
So you're humming this tune
In your single room with a view


from George, released August 17, 2015



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