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Holy See (Vatican City State).
DJ since Feb 10, 2009
excessively
you know I'll be drunk and waiting on the steps of Saint Anthony's church
excessively
I'm not crazy, I'm just young enough to tear your town apart
excessively
tell me where you're going with that knife in your hand
excessively
you're the kindling, still, that burns below my heart / you're the memory, now, that lives across the world
excessively
everyone knows it whenever she flies / and also when she comes down
excessively
I’ve read my name in lights / I’ve seen my face in papers / but in my civilian life / I spent ten good years waiting waiting waiting waiting for you
excessively
your dream went like this / John the Baptist came back vapor-veiled / with grand expectations for what he had started
excessively
you've had your fun, you don't get well no more
excessively
you can't play for keeps if you never draw blood
excessively
I'm so sick and tired tryin' to change your mind / when it's so easy to disconnect mine
excessively
and I don't live my time like I should / but they're killin' off my childhood / taking all my heroes, babe, one by one / everyone famous is gone
excessively
I was already halfway through Ohio / when I heard your soft voice singing to a song on the radio
excessively
send 'em a wire, give 'em my best / this ammunition never rests / no one serves coffee / no one wakes up
excessively
is the Promised Land just a funny / way to say the strangeness never ceases? / 'cause Emmy, you have baptized me to pieces
excessively
and you'll die a young and exciting death / and you will tell us all in your last breath / "I'm done, there's nothing to be happy about"
excessively
the parking lot trees are bending and rotten / and so you are too, for the love that you’ve gotten / and forgotten
excessively
you played the part of the one who was taken down by gods / all I could think about was how a guy like me could fight them off
excessively
nothing is ever lost / nothing is ever ever lost
excessively
Sylvan Lake Corner is flickering with childhood / and the mourner within me feels older than wildwood
excessively
made on the sixth day to rest on the seventh / and now we just try to survive
