of montreal
last rites at the jane hotel
Other people can be so disappointing I need to spend more time alone What gives us the right to be so depressing? 224 West 16th Street was our cathedral  These tears I cry for you must prove that I'm not the demon that I'm meant to be  You say you love me though just like you aren't too shady Knowing what you know, it must be hard to Trust someone who's so similar to yourself Don't you know it's pointless to try and bully me into caring more Assume no fault of your own It's really just the boredom of being someone's captive  These tears I cry for you must prove that I'm not the demon that I'm meant to be  Check-in at the Jane hotel Terrible people  As usual as dead from anti-anxiety meds And the old gang grasping for air that's not there  Seeking out my own authentic season in hell Though it doesn't feel quite as pompous At least not as I can At least not as I can tell  Dream, dream  Misery [?] yawning Wrecked me for the summer's [?] That I am free and almost alone Down in Jersey I feel better  Why would you ask? Why should you care how I'm doing? Do I bother you with those kinds of vapid questions anymore? I wanna matter, I wanna be your friend, not a poison This kind of love, our kind of love is so demoralizing  These tears I cry for you must prove that I'm not the demon that I'm meant to be  Seeking out my own authentic season in hell Though it doesn't feel quite as pompous At least not as I can At least not as I can tell  Seeking out my own authentic season in hell Though it doesn't feel quite as caustic At least not as I can At least not as I can At least not as I can tell