Elliott Smith Quotes

The first time I saw you
I knew it would never last
I'm not half what I wish I was
I'm so angry
I don't think it'll ever pass
And I was bad news for you just because
I never meant to hurt you

London Bridge is safe and sound
No matter what you keep repeating
Nothing's gonna drag me down
To a death that's not worth cheating

She appears composed
So she is, I suppose
Who can really tell?
She shows no emotion at all
Stares into space like a dead china doll

They took your life apart
And called your failures art
They were wrong, though
They won't know
'Til tomorrow

It's a picture perfect evening
And I'm staring down the sun
Fully loaded, deaf, and dumb
And done waiting for sedation to disconnect my head
Or any situation where I'm better off than dead

I'm in love with the world,
Through the eyes of a girl,
Who's still around the morning after.

Crooked spin can't come to rest,
I'm damaged bad at best.

I'm going out now like a baby
A naïve unsatisfiable baby
Grabbing onto whatever's around
For the soaring high or the crushing down
With hidden cracks that don't show, but that constantly just grow.

I could make you satisfied in everything you do,
All your secret wishes could right now be coming true
And be forever with my poisoned arms
Around you.
No one's gonna fool around with us.

Drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again
Between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there
With your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine...

I'm looking at a hand full of broken plans
And I'm tired of playing it down
You just want her to do anything to you
There ain't nothing you won't allow
You wake up in the middle of the night
From a dream you won't remember flashing on like a cop's light
You say she's waiting and I know what for
The white lady loves you more

I'm a junkyard full of false starts
And I don't need your permission
To bury my love under this bare light bulb.
The moon is a sickle cell
It'll kill you in time.

You turned white, like a saint
But I'm tired of dancing on a pot of gold...
...Flecked paint.

Your hand on his arm, the hay stack charm around your neck, strung out and thin, calling some friend trying to cash some check, he's acting dumb, that's what you've come to expect. * I can't beat myself
I can't beat myself
And I don't want to talk.
I'm taking the cure so I can be quiet
Whenever I want.
So leave me alone
You ought to be proud that I'm getting good marks.

Church bells and now I'm awake
And I guess it must be some kind of holiday
I can't seem to join in the celebration
But I'll go to the service
And I'll go to pray
And I'll sing the praises of my maker's name
Like I was as good as she made me...