How Far We Haven't Come

by Save The Swim Team

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released September 20, 2011




Save The Swim Team Huntington Beach, California

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Track Name: The 211th, 212th and 213th Amendments To The Constitution
All this shouting at the walls I've built up around myself has left me convinced I can't do this alone. I can't keep wishing to be someone I'm not or wanting everything to burn to the ground, thinking maybe when everyone's blind in the same way I can't seem to see, I'll be happier with my place in the dark. I'll be happy.
Track Name: Bury Me
Bury me in your yard. Let the worms at my eyes. You always said someday I’d see. Someday I’d truly realize what it means to open up. Well, you’ve opened me up and taken what you wanted.
And now what’s left is this fucking skeleton. The walking dead, I’m a sad contradiction. I never knew until this day what it meant to be a date on a calendar crossed off. Yeah, that page has turned. I’m the shell, still hot and lying on the ground, in the dirt. You’re pointing the finger that you used to pull the trigger in my face. You scream, “You made, you made me do this. Made me do this.”

Look how far I haven’t come. I’m falling apart, decomposing to keep my composure. I never know until they’re placed, the odds for bets on if I’ll make it out alive. Compassion’s never been my specialty. Your guaranty was once good enough for me. You caught your own reflection in the mirror you tried to make out of me and you screamed, “You made, you made me do this. Made me do this.”
I swear to God I’m done with all this trying so hard to be someone else.
I’ve got letters written all by my hand, but I don’t recognize the boy who once held on to that paper and that pen. I’m not him. I’m not him. I’ve buried him, too.
Track Name: Them's Fighting Words
You can’t trust me to keep this quiet
With our nervous habits and our second glances and our failed attempts to do what we want to do. Make like a war with our good intentions, bring this whole foundation down all around me.
Scream at me, you’ve got nothing better left to say now. Simply pull the strings and I’ll dance (I’ll watch you drown so sink or swim)
Five silent days, spoke a word on the third, placed second—you win again
Feed me lies without batting an eye, cause every one you told, I matched in equal size with my own—(I find the guilt is just right)
Five mornings now, wake to catch my breath, replaying last night in my head
What’s more is I still can’t hate you for this
Pretend I see it but I don’t—(you’ll find your answers on your own)
Hearts in your eyes so goddamn big you’re blind
You can’t afford to shed a tear—(and still I’ve wasted all these years)
Least I can say you’ve cured my fear of dying
Track Name: Something Blue
“I was sick to death of seeing a dozen roses when you saw sex and what’s left is you don’t seem to be changing yet. You were quick to say I’m beautiful all those years ago, but don’t you know how often I still need to know?”
she tells me. “I’ve got better things to do than sit here and hate myself.” Well, honey, I can’t say I agree, so spend all your time thinking about how you said that you wouldn’t need another man. “Forever” may be just another word we threw around, but now it’s gathering dust and it’s coughing up love all over this house.
I hope you get everything. Everything that you threw everything away for and me, I’ll leave a message on your telephone. Yeah, I’ve been saving up to make the call. I hope it’s not too late to let you know that I’ll be fine. Sure, it feels like I’m living like a skeleton sometimes. Still, you can’t pay for a happier life with the face you think you saved. So spend all your time thinking about how you said that we’d grown into two pieces that didn’t fit. “Forever” may be just another word we tossed away, but we were just two kids and we didn’t know shit and that’s fine with me.
There’s a song on the radio. You can hum along, but I know you won’t. There’s something about letting go.
So let go and then spend all your time thinking about what you meant when you said you’d never breathe again without me in your life, well I don’t see you drowning in the plenty of fish in the sea. So drown for me, baby, your new blue skin suits you.
Track Name: I Think I'm Falling Apart
I take it back. You see, I’m not myself and the promises I made, well they were all in mother fucking vain. When I said to never fall in love, I meant to warn myself and it’s important still to keep a steady stream of bullshit sent her way, but I’m happiest when I’m in pain. But still I’ll drink enough to get drunk and sing my songs, sing so you can clearly hear that I hurt. Despite what may come, I start to feel like I’ve failed the first test of my life. Prove that I’ve still got a good chance to survive. But still I second-guess everything I’ve ever done, making this all widely known that I know nothing at all but to run and hide when I see times that are tougher ahead. Try teaching me self-esteem. Recall when you said, “I think you’re falling, oh, I think you’re falling apart. I think you’re blaming yourself. You hate this part. On second thought, I think you love it. It’s not that hard to find a reason to live.” It hurts my back, you know, to shoulder the weight of this crippling self-hate and try to fight this insecurity. When she tells you there was someone else, I hope she thinks of me and wishes she had not made the mistake of sending me away, but I’m happiest when I’m in pain. But I’ve got my whole life still behind me.
Track Name: It's Not You
I care what I shouldn’t care about. I don’t care about what I should, and I’ll probably make this all about me again. Did you expect any different? And I need a refresher course on getting along with others, because I’ve spent enough time in my head and I’m worried the move here might be permanent.
Track Name: I'm Burnt Out (And Doug's No Good)
If this is all more than a ripple in the pond, I can’t tell for sure, what have I learned. If death’s head is a stagnant heart, then what the hell am I headed there for? I know I’ve said it, but do I really understand? I can’t live this way, wasting every day. If all life is a sum of it’s parts, then what the hell have I accomplished so far? I know I’ve only got myself to blame, and it shows by the way you say my name. It’s like I’m filling in holes with the dirt you keep accusing me of telling it, not how it is, but how it’s never good enough and saying, “I’m sick of always needing to look the other way." But today, I’ll write a new ending to the script I’ve been working on. This time I say the right things to make you stay. I’ve made some changes but I’ve got a ways to go. I’ve started thinking about packing myself up and leaving to a place where the sun doesn’t rise, a place where I have the strength in me to meet your eyes. And I know I won’t be happy until I do something worth mentioning. I know I’ve already had my second chance, in fact I know I’ve had a lot of them. It’s like I can’t get enough of how things seem to go your way. And isn’t it just picture perfect how it stings and stings for days? I only hope you have the decency to look the other way . But today, I’ll write a new ending. I’ll mean it when I say I know what’s best for me and I swear I won’t fucking care if you leave or stay. I’ll get my turn—two tickets to the scene before you. Break something quick—God I love to be reprimanded. I’ve got a record to keep, keep score to the rhythm of your feet just walking, just walking. I’m 0 for 10, I’m over you. I’ve got thick skin, I’ll take the beating again. Turn the other cheek, learn to go back to sleep. But today, I’ll write a new ending. I’ll lie down and close my eyes and go back to sleep, where I can make things make sense. I’m still ashamed to admit that I’ve wasted so much of my life thinking that without you, I would die.
Track Name: Choice
You know it’s killing me. Every time you look and don’t see a son of any sort, but someone who refuses to shed a skin that can’t be permanent. But I’m not the one with cold blood and a serpentine tongue. Each night is a fighting match that will end in bad taste and a shattered dinner plate or two. And my veins run blue. I swear that I’m not all that different than you. And I do have a choice, but not the one you think I do and I do have a voice, but it shakes. You paint such a lovely picture. You frame such a convincing fake of a family a man could be proud of. White lies. Why try to keep this safe? We lead instead of follow dreams. I swear that I’m not anything like you. Should I still have sympathy for ghosts? Sometimes I envy them.
Track Name: Making Friends
Stop. Let me paint you this. I’ve spent all night circling bar stools and noticing nuances in flips and curls of your hair. The nervous laugh on your lips. Or how you’re dancing with no one there. You’re catching eyes like they’re drops of wine. Fermented thunderclouds are resting just above your blouse. And though I haven’t had a single drink, I must admit I’ve gotten drunk off of something. There’s something perfect. Your age is ageless. Your lips are tasteless. Your name is helpless, so let me introduce myself. I pull you close and whisper, “Don’t let go.” Despite this confidence, I’m feeling pretty delicate. A man like me makes friends from distance, but tonight, if you don’t scream out too loudly, I’ll hold you tight enough to feel this. Your body’s shameless. Your hands are shaking. You’re just so precious, so let me introduce myself. You struggle too much to be a good crush. I am making friends that I may never see again.
Track Name: Love
Do you miss how much you were in love when the days went by like white smoke through cracks in locked doors? Or do you recognize that it can’t get any better and that the good days and bad habits have blistered on lips and healed over? But is it ever really over? I know you’re new, but I can’t seem to forgive you. You taught me everything I know about how little you know. Greedy hands, they were always factored in. I’ve been a drug. I’ve been everything but a reason for you to open your eyes and face each day. “The day is gonna come,” I told you over and over, the day is gonna come when I won’t see you sober enough to recognize my mom. Desperate times. God knows I’ve seen your desperate measures. Dollar signs. We’ll eat like royalty tonight because tomorrow we’ll both go to hell. We’ll both go to hell. Was almost preferable to that house. You made sure every day that I was always afraid. I know you’re sorry. I know. I’m sorry, too. You taught me everything I know about being scared to come home. Looking like hell at age twelve, hating how much you’re hating yourself.
Track Name: Miss Fortune
Forget what you heard. You never gave us a chance before—you closed your eyes and plugged your ears.
So one last time, let’s write another lovely poem about the sunrise over the coast and how most of the fish are all dead and the oceans and lakes are all turning a bright red. I know I’ve had my dose today, have you? It tastes like bittersweet apathy. Can you understand the implications of this mess? And I know how the glass must have pretended to make some sense out of any of this stubborn fool’s rants. I’m raving like a lunatic with one foot in the grave Hey, what do you mean when you say, “Let’s drop everything and we’ll sing another prayer to Pessimism and he’ll listen”? Thanks. Thank you for the misery. Goddamn your sympathy. It’s over (Over at the count of three). It’s over (No one’s even listening). And I know that we’ve come close to being sick, every time we sit and wait and watch the clock as it ticks down. We’re waiting till the time is right, we’re starting the next act. And I know how the planets must have confused you when I told you that that’s where they send your soul to. You said that wasn’t that hard to believe in. This one is for Miss Fortune. Whose heart is on her sleeve. It seems to be the only way I can sing anything lately. Strike two—you’re up to bat, with a stage, lights and an act, to act like someone else—each one of us is someone else up there. Leaving us alone—without an A, without an L—what does it spell? I’m ready if you are to just send it all to hell.
Track Name: Whitman
It takes everything I got. It takes every pill I can fit in your mouth to shut you up—to show you I’m more than a wave or a candle. I’m not crashing down. I’m not burning out. I’ve grown to hate the taste of blood and so I will not bite my tongue. Wash away the chalk outlines you’ve already drawn around your life. You’ve tried digging this grave, but it’s in concrete and with a rusted spade. And this time maybe I’m not just screaming at walls and maybe it’s not just you or the echoes calling back. Calling me back to corners I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. Bound with self-restraint, gagged with “it’s too late,” I had said goodbye to too much of my life, but now it’s clear to me that that ship, it was bound to sink. And this time maybe I’ll pull the stitching right out from my lips and I’ll sew myself tighter to the backbone I’m growing again. Growing again, I’m almost a man. I’m not the boy you’d like to make out of me. And I know it’s true, you can’t count on a single hand the number of times you’ve tried to die and you think you know enough about the world to make up your mind about shit like that, but you don’t. Do I contradict myself? Well, sometimes it’s hard to be as positive as Whitman. A heavy heart is like the second skin that I’m doing my best to fucking shed. Wishing you were dead is harder when your friends would kill you if you did. So now I’m breaking ties with you. I’m choosing life. Cut away the things that bind. Because now I’m free—at least enough to sleep straight on through ‘til morning.