Bright Eyes - Waste Of Paint Lyrics






I have a friend; he's mostly made of pain
And he wakes up, drives to work and straight back home again
He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper
I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover
And I tried to tell him that he had a sense
Of color and composition so magnificent

And he said, "Thank you please, but your flattery
It's truly not becoming me
Your eyes are poor – you're blind, you see
No beauty could have come from me
I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time"

I knew a woman; she was dignified and true
And her love for her man was one of her many virtues
Until one day she found out that he had lied
And she decided the rest of her life from that point on would be a lie
But she was grateful for everything that had happened
And she was anxious for all that would come next

But then she wept – what did you expect?
In that big old house with the cars she kept
And such is life she often said
With one day leading to the next
You get a little closer to your death
Which was fine with her, she never got upset
And with all the days she may have left
She would never clean another mess
Or fold his shirts or look her best
She was free to waste away alone

Last night my brother he got drunk and drove
And this cop he pulled him off to the side of the road
And he said, "Officer, officer, you got the wrong man
No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!"
The cop said, "No one got hurt; you should be thankful
And your carelessness, it is something awful

And no, I can't just let you go
And though your father's name is known
Your decisions now are yours alone
You're nothing but a stepping-stone
On a path to debt, to loss, to shame"

Last few months I've been living with this couple
Yeah, you know the kind who buy everything in doubles
Oh, they fit together like a puzzle
And I love their love and I am thankful
That someone actually receives the prize that was promised
By all those fairytales that drugged us

And they still do me; I'm sick, lonely
No laurel tree; just green envy
Will my number come up eventually?
Like love's some kind of lottery
Where you scratch and see what's underneath
It's sorry: just one cherry, play again, get lucky

So I've been hanging out down by the train's depot
No, I don't ride; I just sit and watch the people there
And they remind me of windup cars in motion
The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions
And I wanna scream out that it all is nonsense
All your life's one track – can't you see it's pointless?

But just then my knees give under me
My head feels weak and suddenly
It's clear to see it's not them but me
Who's lost my self-identity
And I hide behind these books I read
While scribbling my poetry
Like art could save a wretch like me
With some ideal ideology
That no one could hope to achieve
And I'm never real – it's just a sketch of me
And everything I made is trite and cheap
And a waste of paint, of tape, of time

So now I park my car down by the cathedral
Where the floodlights point up at the steeples
Choir practice was filling up with people
I could hear the sound escaping as an echo
Sloping off the ceiling at an angle
And when the voices blend they sound like angels
I hope there's some room still in the middle
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them
The range is too high way up in heaven

And so I hold my tongue, forget the song
Tie my shoes, start walking off
And try to just keep moving on
With my broken heart and my absent god
And I have no faith but it's all I want
To be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul





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Bright Eyes Waste Of Paint Comments
  1. N.... F....

    This song makes me not want to be dead.

  2. V.... B....

    There is no such thing as "Wasted Time". Time, like God, is nothing more then what you make of it, envision within every thought moment of one's existence.

  3. C.... H....

    I listen to this while "filming"

  4. p.... ....

    She was free
    to waste
    away
    alone.


    Damn, that's so depressing.

  5. E.... ....

    lifeeeeeeee

  6. S.... M....

    Every Son wants to hear a couple things. I love you. Lying to me is like lying to yourself. I got you.

  7. H.... ....

    My dead brother should have taken my place, that's why this song hurts.

  8. S.... M....

    Grocery store sushi. 12 pack of beer. Marijuana. A halftime moneyline bet on the Raptors. 1531.

  9. D.... P....

    Isn't it funny how almost every YouTube video has 4.5 likes 18 thumbs down? Always the same numbers... Illuminati. I'll make a social experiment of every video or ad I find with those numbers, then make my own YouTube video to prove this theory. Then when my own YouTube video hits 4.5 18. I'll have proved this damn theory.

  10. S.... M....

    Hide behind these books i read.

  11. S.... M....

    No. I can't just let you go.

  12. R.... L....

    Loves some kinda lottery 💔💫💥

  13. K.... K....

    2019 anyone??

    K.... K....

    creepygamer x yerp. Every day😅

  14. K.... B....

    This is that song when you're really alone and it's 3am.

    "I love their love and I am thankful, that someone actually received the gift that was promised, by all those fairy tales that drugged us"

    ....

    "All I want is to be loved, and believe it in my soul...."

    Yeah.

  15. M.... ....

    I can't wait for the day this song doesn't perfectly reflect myself, so I can listen to it as a dizzying memory of what this pain is. I hope by now when Connor plays this song its a long past patch of his soul

    M.... ....

    I completely agree. <3 Hang in there, friend.

  16. J.... B....

    No references to anything in particular, sorta pointless beautiful poetry.. and It’s sorry :,)

  17. K.... B....

    Wow. This song is so raw. What a beautiful song of tragedy and self discovery. Brought me to tears

  18. c.... ....

    U.S. SUICIDE HELP TEXT LINE: 741741

    This song got me through some very painful times.

  19. p.... ....

    I want to be Loved.

  20. p.... ....

    Art can save a wretch like me.

  21. E.... J....

    >;< >;< >;<

  22. J.... J....

    I have a friend, he's mostly made of pain
    He wakes up, drives to work and straight back home again
    He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper
    I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover
    And I tried to tell him he had a sense
    Of color and composition so magnificent
    And he said, "Thank you, please
    But your flattery
    It's truly not becoming me
    Your eyes are poor, you're blind you see
    No beauty could have come from me
    I'm a waste
    Of breath, of space, of time"

    I knew a woman, she was dignified and true
    Her love for her man was one of her many virtues
    Until one day she found out that he had lied
    And decided the rest of her life from that point on would be a lie
    She was grateful for everything that had happened
    And she was anxious for all that would come next
    But then she wept, what did you expect?
    In that big old house with the car she kept
    And, "Such is life," she often said
    With one day leading to the next
    You get a little closer to your death
    Which was fine with her, she never got upset
    And with all the days she may have left
    She would never clean another mess
    Or fold his shirts or look her best
    She was free
    To waste away alone

    Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove
    And this cop pig pulled him off to the side of the road
    And he said, "Officer, officer, you've got the wrong man
    No, no, I'm a student of medicine, a son of a banker, you don't understand"
    The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful
    And your carelessness, it is something awful
    And no, I can't just let you go
    And though your father's name is known
    Your decisions now are yours alone
    You're nothing but a stepping stone
    On a path
    To debt, to loss, to shame"

    The last few months I've been living with this couple
    Yeah, you know the kind who buy everything in doubles
    Yeah, they fit together like a puzzle
    I love their love, and I am thankful
    That someone actually receives the prize that was promised
    By all those fairy tales that drugged us
    And still do me, I'm sick, lonely
    No laurel tree, just green envy
    Will my number come up eventually?
    Like love's some kind of lottery
    Where you scratch and see what's underneath
    It's sorry, just one cherry
    I'll play again, get lucky

    So now I hang out down by the train's depot
    No, I don't ride, I just sit and watch the people there
    They remind me of windup cars in motion
    The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions
    And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense
    And their life's one track and can't they see it's pointless?
    But just then my knees give under me
    My head feels weak and suddenly
    It's clear to see it's not them but me
    Who's lost my self-identity
    And I hide behind these books I read
    While scribbling my poetry
    Like art could save a wretch like me
    With some ideal ideology
    That no one could hope to achieve
    And I'm never real, it's just a sketch of me
    And everything I've made is trite and cheap
    And a waste
    Of paint, of tape, of time

    So I park my car down by the cathedral
    Where the floodlights point up at the steeples
    Choir practice is filling up with people
    I hear the sound escaping as an echo
    Sloping off the ceiling at an angle
    When the voices blend they sound like angels
    I hope there's some room still in the middle
    But when I lift my voice up now to reach them
    The range is too high way up in heaven
    So I hold my tongue, forget the song
    Tie my shoes, start walking off
    And try to just keep moving on
    With my broken heart and my absent God
    And I have no faith but it's all I want
    To be loved, and believe
    In my soul, in my soul

  23. C.... C....

    i'm not sure if this makes me feel better or worse about my life situation. hmm.

  24. K.... ....

    He's like a more emotional bob dylan

  25. A.... C....

    10 years later and this still hurts the same.

  26. J.... C....

    *Lyrics*
    I have a friend, he's mostly made of pain. He wakes up, drives to work,
    and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
    I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
    And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent.
    And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
    Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.
    I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."
    I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
    Until one day, she found out that he had lied and she decided the rest of her life,
    from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
    And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept.
    What did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept.
    "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading to the next,
    you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.
    She never got upset and with all the days she may have left,
    she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best.
    She was free to waste away alone.
    Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
    And he said, "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man.
    No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!"
    The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And your carelessness,
    it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known,
    your decisions now are yours alone. You're nothing but a stepping stone
    on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
    The last few months I have been living with this couple.
    Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle.
    And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
    receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
    And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
    Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery,
    where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry",
    just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.
    So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride.
    I just sit and watch the people there. And they remind me of wind up cars in motion.
    The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
    And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
    All your lives one track, can't you see it's pointless?
    But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and
    suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
    As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,
    like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
    And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
    And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
    So now I park my car down my the cathedral, where floodlights point up at the steeples.
    Choir practice was filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
    Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When voices blend they sound like angels.
    I hope there is some room still in the middle.
    But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.
    So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off.
    And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
    and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul...

  27. B.... a....

    Such an amazing song.
    Lyrics touch home for alot of people that may be struggling in life.

    Can listen to this song over and over again..

  28. J.... ....

    "he wakes up drives to work and straight back home again" that's my nightmare. I don't wanna waste my life but I don't know how to escape it.

  29. M.... W....

    Genius lyrics

  30. M.... ....

    When someone dumps you :/

  31. S.... ....

    This is the perfect song for me now...

  32. t.... ....

    Am I the only guy who actually finds this song really funny? I mean he can't be serious about all those depressing things. It's 2nd degree right?

    t.... ....

    Late reply but when he writes the songs, he doesn’t typically incorporate himself into his songs. He writes songs that he thinks people could relate to, like different stories in different songs. So he’s probably not serious about these things himself, but it be like that sometimes

  33. r.... k....

    Keller mcalpinI wrote a buncha stuff and my computer died......just dont off your self friend. Email me it you need to talk (not a dr.) But studyed quite a deal of psychology [email protected] I will respond if anyone needs help I think i could help I have and studied psych but I wont clame to cure or even help (I will try too but i ain't magic)you just email me and depending on you issue I will see if I can help or not. btw its free just email me just trying to help the ill. Peace be with you  *distant "shut up hippie" 
     For real tho.  If u think about offin your self it is NOT worth it can not stress that enough 
    Legal: Also I am in no way clameing to be a dr.  So keep that in mind.  I just am here to talk.

  34. H.... A....

    He is so artistic in his lyrics. I love it so much. They are really good titles for paintings, or good writing prompts. <3

  35. N.... M....

    Even though it is the artist's job to create in order to find an antidote to existence, there is still the nagging insecurity that everything he or she will do will be a waste of paint or time and that no one will care or listen. The song is spoken from the viewpoint of a perfectionist. It's very hard to control and make things perfect in life, so he tries to in his art. Unfortunately, even when he is praised for his work, he's too insecure to believe them. He tries to find the perfect version of love too. He understands in the end that he is living by an impossible ideal in his head. "The deity is within you, not in ideas and book. Truth is lived, not taught". That's the thing with intellectuals, they've proven that you can be absolutely brilliant, and have no idea what's going on. This is why truth is lived in the here-and-now, with things like sex or even casual conversation. Drugs are a shortcut to this truth. The artist is always struggling to get out of the blue with art, into higher levels of truth, his mind sprawling endlessly into oblivion. He'll never get there, not before he's dead. This is quite a challenging task: to be absolutely certain of your meaninglessness, but to still create anyways. This song is a compassionate example of this tragedy, neatly packaged, so that the listener can empathize with the human condition.

  36. D.... l....

    two years after listening for the first time things have changed. The lyrics made more sense, the feelings got intensified. But most of all, melt my heart again and again as I'm able to relate from the first verse.

  37. N.... ....

    cadê os br desperdiçados? kk

  38. S.... Y....

    A amazing song from one the most amazing albums of my life (out of hundreds, it's easily top 20). Connor Oberst is a damn genius and poet.

  39. C.... M....

    Suicide song - Loudon wainwright iii

  40. R.... ....

    masterpiece

  41. m.... r....

    i guess this goes on as a tale of mistaken identity or accusations steepled in falsehood and how to go on living but in not so many ways as anyone else, through means of privilege or other

    m.... r....

    instances of this being sang as recorded dialogue snippets from a crowded room in which eventually people raise voices as a means to supercede the others is also a nice mindset to carry along while listening

  42. S.... ....

    For gods sake Mr. Oberst I'm at work!

  43. S.... M....

    700th comment. great song.

  44. C.... G....

    Andre teilzeit, solltest du das lesen (aber wahrscheinlich hörst du es auf Vinyl) ich bin wegen dir hier und ich liebe es <3

    C.... G....

    Noch jemand, zufälligerweise kam ich auch über ihn auf die Idee, mir dass mal anzuhören.

    Die Musik Beruhigt :)

  45. M.... M....

    Will my number come up eventually? Like love's some kind of lottery where you scratch and see what's underneath..

  46. A.... V....

    This song hurts. It's pain. It's sharp. It's rust.

  47. A.... U....

    a circle jerk tune for the pathetic

    A.... U....

    David Kulesh one would have to be naive to take such a comment seriously it's obviously a joke.
    anyways it doesn't change how its interpreted at a superficial level by his target audience.

    A.... U....

    Everything human is pathetic. The secret source of humor is not joy but sorrow. There is no humor in heaven

    A.... U....

    deregulation youtube 2k17

  48. D.... B....

    the 1st verse and the last is how i feel each day of my life...he articulates the words in a way i could never image

  49. K.... ....

    love this song

  50. L.... D....

    The "and no I can't just let you go" line sounds Scottish

    L.... D....

    L Derek more like a minnesotan

  51. g.... ....

    listening to this song at work, i actually started crying... without warning.... :|

  52. M.... ....

    This is the saddest song ever

    M.... ....

    Mors :(

    M.... ....

    lol how can u say its not sad to him/her? its an opinion, thats how they felt in that moment in time. u have no right to say its wrong or right. peace and love.

    M.... ....

    but by your logic he does have a right... its his opinion... opinions are more than 2 point of view...peace and love peace and love

    M.... ....

    It's cool we can still be friends is more brutal I think. But that may just be me.

    M.... ....

    This isnt even the saddest bright eyes song lol listen too "lovers turn into monsters "or "jetsabel removes the undesirables " or any of their old eps

  53. A.... C....

    poetry. pure, honest, painful, magical poetry.

  54. A.... ....

    Used to listen to this song in bed as a teenager... all while majorly crushing on Conor ;)

  55. H.... T....

    literally crying everytime

  56. A.... R....

    For once I song I can relate to.

    A.... R....

    so good

    A.... R....

    Get hobbies

    A.... R....

    @Ryan Thomas
    Haha, of all people you ask me that. I draw, paint, sing, act, run, and cook. I've got way too many XD

  57. i.... e....

    well I'm personally glad that he's not overly handsome like he wishes because then he wouldn't be so beautifully desperate.

  58. C.... L....

    I think the vocalist of 21 pilots was inspired by his style of singing. it's sounds so similar in my opinion...

    C.... L....

    +Chesca Louise funny, I was JUST thinking that!

    C.... L....

    You know I was just thinking that. My friends love 21 pilots, and the first time I heard them I thought “oh, he sounds like Conor Oberst...”

  59. W.... W....

    you tube need a button : " I love this!"

  60. b.... ....

    And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
    receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
    And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.

    b.... ....

    Yeah... "All those fairy tales that drugged us"

  61. P.... W....

    listen to this mental illness explained in art.

    P.... W....

    +Paula White nothing in this song is about mental illness at all. If you think what he's describing is depression or neurosis, then you really need to check yourself. This is about sadness, actual depression is SO much worse, so much more terrifying than anything in this song. Can't speak for any other mental illness, though, except maybe dyslexia. Which is not much of a problem, and the song brings it up about as much as it probably should.

    P.... W....

    @***** but only one part of this song is about self-loathing in any way, the rest of the song is antithetical to the kind of mental illness you're describing.

    P.... W....

    Hmm maybe you're half right then, maybe the song is about narcissism.

    P.... W....

    he's not crazy he's just an artist

  62. L.... S....

    Am I the only one who can't hold in the tears when listening to this song?

  63. M.... ....

    So much feels T_T

  64. T.... D....

    I hate my old self

  65. P.... J....

    Still his most raw, honest song from his best album

  66. c.... b....

    The emotions
    A profit of humanity

  67. M.... g....

    i feel like i won the lottery.. js. <3

    M.... g....

    +Mea gain good for you.

  68. R.... ....

    Think of Enjolras and Grantaire though.

  69. K.... K....

    I have a friend, he's mostly made of pain.
    He wakes up, drives to work,
    and then straight back home again.
    He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
    I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
    And I tried to tell him he had a sense
    of color and composition so magnificent.
    And he said
    "Thank you, please,
    but your flattery
    is truly not
    becoming me.
    Your eyes are poor.
    You are blind. You see,
    no beauty could have come from me.
    I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."

    I knew a woman, she was dignified and true.
    Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
    Until one day, she found out that he had lied
    and she decided the rest of her life,
    from that point on would be a lie.
    But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
    And she was anxious for all that would come next.
    But then she wept.
    What did you expect?
    In that big, old house with the cars she kept.
    "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said.
    With one day leading to the next,
    you get a little closer to your death,
    which was fine with her.
    She never got upset
    and with all the days she may have left,
    she would never clean another mess
    or fold his shirts or look her best.

    She was free
    to waste
    away
    alone.

    Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove.
    And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
    And he said,
    "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man.
    No, no, I'm a student of medicine,
    the son of a banker,
    you don't understand!"
    The cop said,
    "No one got hurt, you should be thankful.
    And your carelessness,it is something awful.
    And no, I can't just let you go.
    And though your father's name is known,
    your decisions now are yours alone.
    You're nothing but a stepping stone

    on a path
    to debt,
    to loss,
    to shame."

    The last few months I have been living with this couple.
    Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles.
    They fit together, like a puzzle.
    And I love their love and I am thankful
    that someone actually receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.

    And they still do me.
    I'm sick, lonely,
    no laurel tree,
    just green envy.
    Will my number come up eventually?
    Like Love is some kind of lottery,
    where you can scratch and see what is underneath.
    It's "Sorry",
    just one cherry,
    "Play Again."
    Get lucky.

    So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot.
    No, I don't ride, I just sit and watch the people there.
    And they remind me of wind up cars in motion.
    The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
    And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
    All your lives one track, can't you see it's pointless?

    But then, my knees give under me.
    My head feels weak and suddenly
    *it is clear to see*
    *that it is not them but me,*
    *who has lost my self-identity.*
    *As I hide behind these books I read,*
    *while scribbling my poetry,*
    *like art could save a wretch like me,*
    *with some ideal ideology*
    *that no one can hope to achieve.*
    *And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.*
    *And everything I made is trite and cheap*
    *and a waste*
    *of paint,*
    *of tape,*
    *of time.*

    So now I park my car down my the cathedral,
    where floodlights point up at the steeples.
    Choir practice was filling up with people.
    I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
    Sloping off the ceiling at an angle.
    When voices blend they sound like
    angels.
    I hope there is some room still in the middle.

    But when I lift my voice up now to reach them.
    The range is too high, way up in heaven.

    So I hold my tongue,
    forget the song,
    tie my shoe and start walking off.
    And try to just keep moving on,

    with my broken heart
    and my absent God
    and I have no faith
    but it is all I want,

    to be loved

    and believe in my soul,
    in my soul.

    K.... K....

    @*****​ listen.

    K.... K....

    bambi raptor

    K.... K....

    I love the fact you put all the lyrics, really appreciate that.
    But one part. where you put 'everything is trite and made of cheap'

    I thought the song said 'tripe' which would make more sense for this song and it's meanings.

    Tripe _ Definition.. Slang . something, especially speech or writing, that is false or worthless; rubbish.

    K.... K....

    His brother passed according to Wikipedia

    K.... K....

    the way you typed this up makes me appreciate how truly beautiful these lyrics are and how they are poetry. thanks

  70. A.... C....

    this song is complete garbage. Each person who likes this is a gibbon

  71. s.... ....

    Nothing ever is a waste ! Shitloads of stupidity. Shitstorms of morons.Google /yt has become not the galleries of art we had /or expected.The doors are no more open.Our utopia has become a tank of Shit ! We knew that in some way ,that they were gonna make everybody peanut butter sandwiches,-and it Sucks.The little guy has no chance. the histurians ,have no more chance. Write Google/YT and express the fact "where did all the good gigs GO?"? "WE"the taxpayers of many nations have been screwed by Google /YT ! They aren't paying our money back fron the 60's 70's ,80's  With Intrest ! Now the SCUM  wants us to pay for our own art and heretige ? So, write the cunts ! Write your lawmakers???? Peace.

    s.... ....

    your comment was a waste, i couldn't read more than the first two sentences cause it just kept going on and on trying to repeat but reintroduce yourself and your pointless points at at the same time. :)

    s.... ....

    @TopicsOfGossip shut up

    s.... ....

    @***** or are you jealous cause you dont understand them? maybe its not about being cool

    s.... ....

    It's a cool song.peace.

    s.... ....

    You understand grammar like no other, you have no concept of metaphors, similies or puns, do you?

  72. R.... ....

    I'm 25. My wife won't take me back. I'm a raging alcoholic. I'm severely depressed. And a waste of paint. Cheers.

    R.... ....

    Clearly didn't lose your phone, did you mate?

    R.... ....

    I believe in us. I'm struggling with bipolar, my brain conspiring against me, but we'll get through, proud of u sci biscuit and realstrangesteve and Jonathan cole

    R.... ....

    hope youre doing better.

    R.... ....

    @Zack Mcleod Videos Maybe your six year old son should listen to music that is.... fun? Maybe your son shouldn't be listening to the thoughts of a depression addict?

    R.... ....

    Caledonite Tiger well first of all he would just hear me listening to it and he liked certain songs back then, second that was 2 years ago and he changes what he likes every week so he still like Conor Oberst but has things now that he found in his own that he likes, since u seemed so concerned

  73. D.... l....

    oh gosh ! sweet nectar of honey ! THE FEELS !!

  74. M.... J....

    Reminds me of an early Bob  Dylan... very cool. 

    M.... J....

    @Mina Jensen Dylan never reached this level of emotional expression

    M.... J....

    @lazerlo :')

    M.... J....

    +lazerlo how very dare you speak such blasphemy.

    M.... J....

    +lazerlo exactly!

    M.... J....

    Dylan's sense of vocal melody doesn't do much for me..he is a good poet though

  75. T.... B....

    holy fuck the feels

  76. Z.... S....

    I give him credit for his use of word play and poetry, however not my type of groove or music. Nuff said

  77. E.... H....

    His voice, and his rhyming, and that repetitive meter. All perfect.

  78. K.... M....

    I fell in love with this song.

  79. J.... s....

    I love their love and I am thankful!

  80. A.... C....

    The second verse really makes you think. Just how many wives have just given up and kept their silence? Finally free from the judgment of society and they wear it proudly in revenge, in rebellion. How many others just give up but don't want to be alone?

  81. H.... M....

    Song about me

    H.... M....

    Songs about nothing everything and something

    H.... M....

    @Hakuna Mablabla I hope there's some room still in the middle...

  82. D.... F....

    maaan this fucking song, always makes me cry, fuuuck is sooo goood

    D.... F....

    You and me both brother

  83. A.... S....

    Like art could save a wretch like me

  84. S.... V....

    His voice sounds like a heroin addict's

    S.... V....

    There's a reason for that

    S.... V....

    @HitlerIsRantingAgain His heart sounds like a heroin addict's

  85. m.... d....

    Fuck....

  86. S.... ....

    as a heart broken artist...i love every bitter sweet tune from that voice and guitar. Always feeling worthless but trying and getting pushed down by terrible people..Feeling like a waste. And seeing lovely people..makes you hope even though it hurts.  

  87. C.... P....

    love his poems of life

  88. 1.... ....

    though your fathers name is known, your decisions are now yours alone, you're nothing but a stepping stone, to debt, to loss, to shame.

  89. U.... y....

    It is time to stop wasting our time on earth. We have to come together and work to turn this world into a better place. If we do not start to live in harmony with nature, to build a society based on true equality, union and peace. *It all starts with YOU making peace with yourself → go to www♥TruthContest♥com and read "The Present".*

  90. B.... D....

    can't explain this feel

  91. K.... ....

    This is everything I've ever searched for...

  92. J.... B....

    "And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
    and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul..." *sighs* gives me chills every damn time. 

    J.... B....

    Jake Bliss same, literally the most true and just raw song lyrics I have EVER heard . Conor 😩

  93. L.... M....

    Such HEAVY lyrics!!

    L.... M....

    @Louise Maxwell It's a heavy world

  94. K.... T....

    Jeeze, do people have to argue about religion right now? Just shut up and listen and whatever it means to you, just enjoy it and don't bother arguing about it because it will probably mean something different to someone else, and their leaning is probably different from Conor's when he wrote the song. That's the great thing about music. It doesn't matter. Just enjoy it for yourself.

    K.... T....

    I so agree with you Kate! I never understand why people want to argue over their different interpretations of songs.... Just enjoy it and whatever it means to you is whats important!! relax  :D

  95. x.... s....

    One of the most honest, truely brilliant songs EVER written.