Author: acescents


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punkr0ck–d0llie:

The trains roll by my porch,
Down here where nothing can live.
I’ve been smoking too much because I am no exception.
You knew that already, I think.

If you want salvation,
Then you ought to go see a priest,
Because forgiveness from those that we hurt in this world
Never was guaranteed.

I’m coming home, it’s late again, I’m high as I’ve ever been.
You’re sitting up, you’re in our bed crying for a ghost again.
No room could be as dark or as empty as ours is,
Because I’m at home but I’m not here, and I never am.

I wonder how many
Friends roll past my house in the night?
In boxcars they sleep with hearts stashed in their backpacks.
They’ll make California all right.

A promise from me
Is just a lie I ain’t told yet.
So I’m ready to die, but I’m not willing to watch
You watch me die here in our bed.

I’m lying down, I’ve been nodding out since I don’t know when.
The lights are on, you’re standing up screaming at a ghost again.
Darling, I’m home, hell I ain’t left this house of ours in days.
But I’m not here. I never am, so I just can’t stay.

My darling, I’m never coming back from where I’m going.
My darling, I’m never coming home.
My darling, I’m never coming back from where I’m going.
My darling, I’m never coming home.
Never coming home again.


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sparks-the-skankosaurus-rex:

A guy on TV offered to save my soul toll-free
But that would require getting up off the couch so I was too lazy
Instead I wait in the bushes outside of a cop’s house holding a twelve-gauge
GOD ISN’T DEAD BUT I’LL GET THAT BASTARD SOMEDAY!

And I’d take the beauty of my chaos over anyone else’s perfection
I’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed every day since 1987
Nothing scares me as much as the fact that I don’t give a shit for redemption
But that’s okay cos if it’s where Limbaugh goes then I don’t even want any part of Heaven


http://acescents.tumblr.com/post/169256318673/audio_player_iframe/acescents/tumblr_mu1w2czYRY1sajeqd?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tumblr.com%2Faudio_file%2Facescents%2F169256318673%2Ftumblr_mu1w2czYRY1sajeqd

indiefreshh:

Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist, 

So keep on loving, keep on fighting, 

And hold on, hold on, hold on for your life


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itinerantnothing:

the ones who said: “onward, comrades!” to our death,
with ruin on their
breath,
the weight of centuries on their tongues,
loading failed
manifestos in their guns.

as if defeat, repeated often, could someday
mean we had won.


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theodorebvndy:

i regret a million things and that’s only what i haven’t forgot
but the past was a mine field and right now is a prison break
i hope we make it alive
when who we are doesn’t stop where the law begins
then we’ll storm their courthouses to survive
so i won’t but we shall overcome someday
i can’t do it alone but we shall be free someday
i don’t know how to live but i’m sick of learning how to die


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bloodrelations-andbricks:

I’m growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly hair cuts, taking what comfort we can in the fact that every empire’s days are numbered…man. But I don’t think that I can count that high. I should have paid better attention in school or something, because I feel like there’s something that I don’t know and if I could just jam it into my skull, I could stand to live somehow. But I don’t know. The fact is I’m 2.7 decades into a growing ambivalence. I could count on no hands how many fucks I’m giving. Or is it a million? Are “god” and “void” equivalent? Are we making total destroy, or just making a living? And I know that Rome wasn’t burnt in a day, but it couldn’t have been more than a week. And I know that the children of barbarians become the new tax collectors and priests. So I don’t know. I suppose we’ve been rolling since the world was round, and time makes dust of what we can’t tear down. And I suppose dead bodies make soil of the ground. But what about what we do now? I’m growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly hair cuts, taking what comfort we can in the fact that every empire’s days are numbered…man. But I don’t think that I can count that high. 


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holdsteady:

The Magnetic Fields | I’m Sorry I Love You

Do not listen to my song
Don’t remember it, don’t sing along
Let’s pretend it’s a work of art
Let’s pretend it’s not my heart