Peter Piper
picked
a peck
of people
he could utilize.
Built
a better
batch
of music they could advertise.
But Peter
never learned the way
that people compromise.
His only method to communicate
was to harmonize.
He never
ever
spoke a word
when we were feuding.
Major to minor
like the color of a mood ring.
I only liked him
when he’d play me something soothing.
Could understand him perfectly
if he did it while producing.
Emotions come and go,
they’re either lovely
or abusing.
Maybe that’s the reason
all my records are confusing.
We met in a studio and I couldn’t break the silence
’cause he was raised
a Socialist
and I was raised on violence.
I had to be the best
and he was ne with trying.
Sometimes he built me up,
sometimes I was declining.
We got an apartment in a valley,
it was low enough.
Just like the song,
but we were far away from blowing up.
We fought like animals
and did the same when
making love.
I know that it seems crazy
but I really couldn’t make it up.
The only time that it was easy was in transit.
I’m quiet in a car
’cause I was on another planet.
Felt like he didn’t listen
and I couldn’t understand it.
It was more than dierent languages.
I took it all for granted.
The summer killed me,
skin was crawling,
couldn’t stay still.
A suicide
inside my body
(went onstage still).
I hear it echo
through the arena,
“Du er
et minne.