A bedroom demo — one guitar, one voice, recorded raw. This one’s about two people lying down together after a binge, not sure if the night ends in sleep or something worse. Written in the spirit of Elliott Smith and Songs: Ohia — sparse, minor-key, unresolved.

Lyrics:

Your lips have gone the color of an old bruise,
my heart’s doing something it shouldn’t know how to do.
I won’t ask if this is the one — don’t wake up,
I’ll just lie here counting the breaths, and be anxious with you.

No clocks, no calls, today this could be the end.
But at the moment we’re just two mouths too dry to say goodbye.
If the room stops spinning and you don’t open your eyes,
I’ll still be here when the ambulance arrives.

There is nowhere else I’d rather crash and end, together —
not sober, not clean, how long has it been?
Just the shape of your body before the high gives out,
and I’ll follow your curves down, however far, to kill our doubt.

They’ll find us ruined and twisted together,
two names that people will sigh in relief over, when we’re in the paper.
But don’t worry, I’ll keep the nightlight on and watch over you,
maybe we can have a few conversations to ignore the shaking too.

And if it’s nothing after — if we wake up dead,
I’d rather share this night than any life I could have had.
Every high I’ve chased has ended in bed with you,
so wherever this one’s taking us, that’s where I’m staying too.

There is nowhere else I’d rather crash and end, together —
not sober, not clean, not since god knows when.
Just some addicts using drugs, and the payments due.
But I’m not afraid of what the morning finds,
I’m just afraid there won’t be a morning left, but our bodies entwined.
Silent, cold, ocean blue.
Not breathing anymore