We’ve got Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter Document your whole life! #nofilter Put it on the web for everyone to follow and even though your stream is full, your life is sad and hollow Like your mind, you never seem to find the time to swallow Words, facts, or figures, only pictures of the bottles That you drink every day to keep a glaze on the parties lest you see what was next After bulbs flashed and you said “CHEESE!” It’s a tease if you think this is real Just a shadow of the past you constructed out of zeal Showcasing all you wish you were, omitting all you would conceal And no one is the wiser if you lie or if you cheat But wouldn’t you rather see the truth than live the ruse of the elite? Only fragments can be seen so you miss what lies beneath And like your next door neighbour’s window Or the speed at which the wind blows Your senses will defy you Knock you down and bold-faced lie to you They’ll never let you know what waits beyond that window But you'll see, you’re next in line For the glory of our times Is in telling our life story like a solid work of fiction And we’ll never say we’re sorry for it’s our very strange affliction To fashion fake puppets out of friends and friendly neighbours Giving titles to our albums like they’re sequels to The Avengers And our adventures make us soar to far off lands and distant shores But nothing could compare to the pictures we need to share With the world to validate All our fun or love or hate Needing text to keep us strong when our thoughts are all but wrong And we’ve lost the will to hear our own voice between our ears Or listen to our fears Or let our faces show our tears Until those faces can face the years As more than a montage of status updates to maintain the status quo Instead we should learn, reflect and really try to grow For the flow of life is so much more than pictures And that 60 second video made it 60 seconds quicker Each new shot is just a Flickr that brings us closer to our maker So when we’re old we can remember A life We never had Once removed from the truth Buried deep A passing fad But reality is overrated, right? It’s all mind over matter And history was always written by those who meant to flatter The winners, the crusaders, the rich and those in power Who take great pains to curate an image twice as great with every hour So when we look at their personal media We think their lives look so much easier But we don’t see what they won’t show us And they’re never gonna know us So how are we supposed to grow up In a world with pictures blown up Miles high into the sky Like an omnipresent eye Catching everything we do Like it’s destined to be news Until we find it’s all a sham Like what we post On Instagram

I’m a sea lion woman who drinks coffee and tea A sea lion woman who is just like me I’d rather be the singer than the muse But that singer has awfully big shoes And I know my feet are big but one foot’s a little smaller And lord knows I’ve lived in squalor So there’ll always be space within that leather case for feet I’ve got a long way to go walking knee-deep in the snow Before I can really say that I’m better off this way I try to be a singer, giving my degree the finger But my fears, they often linger That I’ve made severe mistakes and I give myself the shakes thinking how much work it takes But the beating of my heart is like the beating of a drum as I flee from it all Breaking straight into a run And I feel as though I’m staring through the barrel of a gun And I run And I run And I run And I run But will I ever find all the dreams within my mind That I hope will all come true even though I can’t fill shoes of a person out of time Who feels rhythms in her rhyme Like a pulse Like a pulse And I’m drowning in a sea full of mediocrity in art And I’m feeling like a flea or a burning effigy at heart For I can’t seem to find my way in this world Just the way I unfurled from the dreams of a girl That I twisted and twirled beyond all recognition Like a ghostly apparition And I’m swirling without hope like i’m hanging from a rope and my hands reach out and grope For fame And success But only grasp a mess That shows I’m talentless In a time of brilliant stars all playing seedy bars Where no one is on top and the music never stops And we work in retail shops building up our chops For a chance we’ll never get just to play our brilliant set while we waste away in debt But at least I wrote a song so I guess I’ll go along Even though I might be wrong But the playing of that song makes me feel like I belong To a world of tea and coffee With words as sweet as toffee That drip like honey from my tongue That drip like honey from my tongue ‘Cause I’m a sea lion woman who drinks coffee and tea I’m a sea lion woman you just wait and see

Why do I do all the things that I do when I do all the things that I do? I do what I do when I want what I do when I know what it is that I want. And if I could conclude that the things that I do are the things that I do want to do Then I’d do all the things that I wanted to do because that’s just what I would conclude. But let me be clear on this point for I fear that my point may be awfully unclear. There’s a fear that I hear bouncing round in my ear It’s a fear that is coming from here And this fear that was here that I hear in my ear isn’t fear that resolves in a year. For the fear that was here has been taken to here and I’m shaken for fear that it’s stuck. So, I managed to pluck all my courage and tuck all my courage where it won’t get stuck And it’s been my good luck to know when I’m stuck so I know when to not give a fuck. But then I do what I do when I don’t have a clue how to do what it is that I want Which is to do just the thing that I don’t want to do, or at least, what I rather would not. Because if I knew how to do all the things that I’d do if only I just had a clue Then I’d do all the things that I wanted to do because that’s what I wanted to do. But how do you do all the things that you want when you want all the things you can do? How do you know what you want when you do when you don’t have a clue how to choose? I don’t want to choose. I want to do what I do because I want what I do So I guess I should do what I want. But that fear that I hear bouncing round in my ear makes me do what I rather would not So I guess what I want, what I really, really want is to not base my wants in my fears To dismantle the fears that I’ve built up for years so I know how to know what I want And when I know how to know what I want when I want and to do what I want when I do Then I’ll know what I want and I’ll know what to do and then maybe I’ll share it with you

When I found out the truth about Santa I walked the ever so long walk down my driveway For my ever so tiny legs I felt the tears coming forward Tingling behind my eyes Tingling behind my nose Tingling in that place that can go either to your eyes or your nose and usually, Annoyingly It goes to both Because our bodies are healing machines made to push out pain in all its forms This body I used to know it well And in that moment, I took my body, used my every so tiny legs, turned around And ran Past the house Past the backyard Past the swingset and the compost Over rocks and snow I ran To the edge of a cliff and cried I cried in all the ways I’d seen crying done before I cried it out in the woods where no one could share my pain And after it was done After it was out After I’d decided that suicide was not an option and I was too young to run free I knew, I had to go back To the house Through the backyard Past the swingset and the compost Over rocks and snow Go back From the edge of the cliff where I cried The next day in class my teacher asked, “Why did you miss school?” I knew that was a question I didn’t want to answer Consequence all too clear I worried I would cry in front of others I worried they would laugh at my stupidity I worried that my answer would cause the same pain in me for those others who held the same belief in magic, mystery and whimsy beyond what this world ever showed At a time and place Where they couldn’t run Past the house Past the backyard Past the swingset and the compost Over rocks and snow They couldn’t run To the edge of a cliff And cry

You captured my eye like butterflies Dancing round deer flies Over snow? You confuse me. Dipping paint into brushes, your heart rushes forth And back and forth and back and forth You’re lively Like gasoline to the eye lively Like falling 8 million feet from the sky lively Like sparkling lights writing letters to lovers in the wind You’re like the wind And try as I might I can’t hold your moonbeams in my hands Wish I could hold you in my hands You're a problem I stopped trying to solve A cube with colours I've never seen But I've seen puzzles like you before Puzzles that knocked me out by my knees before Puzzles that leave me wanting more And after the last piece is placed, I look beyond the frame because I know that there's more But I can't see it and I can't ignore The connection between your shapes Just dipped in different paints I've seen puzzles like you before But your colours are far more vivid I'd swear that you're different You didn't come from any box because nothing can hold you At least, I can't hold you Because you’re saintly Halo wrapped around your crown Just king me, bring me safe into your arms In the towers made of endless dreaming stones Till we sink, dropping deep beneath your shores And wander like we’ve not been here before Till we whisper lovers’ thoughts forever more Then you’ll leave me lying cold and on the floor Creating walls where none could yet escape I’m your Rapunzel and by far my great mistake Was in cutting my hair before you could think the climb it For I feared too much of the witch Who would push me down below the thorns to blind me Blind me from the truth that you’re deathly Like polonium in my tea cup deathly Like a pole through my skull deathly And I see you wanting more and I wonder If I’ll still be wanting more If I love you, will it be like ones before? Enough? Too much? Or just right? Like butterflies, dancing round deer flies over snow.

If home is where you hang your hat Then there must be a million people with veils draped on their crowns Thin wisps of memories Of memories Of memories Just a memory If home is where the heart is... I came from a broken home No broken bones But broken Cracked apart like leather Too worn out Too used up Too much love given, and not enough accepted So my home is broken Each piece has its own lock and key That I give for free One person at a time I’m Like Oprah on Christmas You get a key! And You get a key! And You get a key! Like sacred bread, there’s an endless supply I Love giving those keys Strip tease but no sex Because there’s always more locks to keep me safe As far as I can tell there’s no master key I’ve looked And looked And looked But don’t touch because sometimes Open arms feel more like sinkholes Tight hugs, more like traps And sometimes I’d rather be in the traps I know than the ones I don’t So I lock up before I leave the house Safe and hidden within these walls With so many doors, I forget where I live Home feels spread thin Thin wisps of memories Of memories Of memories Just a memory Of where I’ve hung my hats There were times I thought I’d found it That fabled master key Because they opened more than one But never all That’s too much power for one key to hold Power I’m not willing to give to any one person So I’ve made homes in hearts of strangers One small piece with one small key Air bnb For one night only It’s a great place to visit Never a place to stay And I never liked to wear hats anyway And I wonder about this master key This holy grail of trust Does it exist? And if it does Will I die with it covered in rust?

La radio puisse mon attention But I break back into my mother tongue That negative tongue that always sticks out just a little too far Just enough to always be pulled back lest it get perpetually in the way Like a child pulled back from busy streets Mais la radio puisse mon attention encore I live in a city who knows many languages but says few A city who gives us her cold shoulder for so long But, for those fleeting moments of heat We endure it I live in a city, broken by/i-polarity, pushed into a frenzy Paper bag and bend me Like you wouldn’t friend me Let me think that you’re never coming back She’s a lover of the most dangerous sort I live in a city who only loves me back when it’s convenient Yet I live in a city of dreams My dreams have once again become The fox to my hound The drug to my problem The lint to my sheets Stuck together, for better or worse My dreams have inspired me more than waking ever could My dreams mask the ribbons in the night And take flight though I’ve forgotten how to drive or astral travel I unravel deep in city streets Where the taste of beer is always close at hand As I wrap myself in man I forgot to take control And my dreams are struggling to take control I want them to Because dreams are limitless and waking is full of borders The paint by number version of the masterpiece I want the new canvas and the blank tapes I want to mail my art to every friend I ever had just to see what they send back I want to paint a new life into my skin And sing the anthem of my generation I want to do away with reason and live by heart Mais la radio puisse mon attention et j'écoute des chansons anglaises translated to french It’s like drinking soy milk when you really want cream It’s just not quite the same There’s something lost in translation With a cotton candy wig in a karaoke bar Melodies sung in accents only some can hear It makes me miss New York With its underground jazz bars and rooftop cuddle parties Where for me, language was never an issue where I was surrounded by artists from Montreal But where are those artists now? When we’re colocs in the same city? We live in a city too small to have our space, too big to have community and forever divided by language When I was growing up, I was bullied for being too french Here, I am too english Despite the beauty of languages I’m climbing the tower of Babel And sometimes those who understand choose not to And though I do live in a city of dreams that I love, She doesn’t always love me back and my heart is forever Divided

Beauty department to heal your soul Deep cleanses, microdermabrasions, anti-oxidant facial scrubs with extracts of Tea tree oil, witch hazel, citrus, chamomile, aloe And it just gets under my skin Seal in moisture and dissipate redness Calm your inflamed nerves Minimize your pores as you would minimize your fears And it just gets under my skin Hide yourself, hide your pain, hide your history under your skin We see flawless, computer-generated sirens who depict a world of “model citizens” Where hair is always shiny but never greasy Where sweat only exist as uniform misting to play against the light Where thighs extend into eternity yet never touch And they remind me Don’t put your hands on your face Don’t put your hands on your face But if I don’t put my hands on my face then everyone will see it And everyone will know I’m no model I see my flaws as clearly as Polaris on a dark, country night I long for skin smooth as cream, hair that billows like smoke and eyes that shine like the moon And every night, after I try to scrub away the disappointment in the mirror And dab at every last insult with the latest miracle cure I crawl into bed, pull the blankets up over my head like a cocoon and pray that in the morning I’ll peel away the covers and emerge Transformed This never happens When I wake up I still see red When I wake up I still see spots But if beauty is only skin deep then I shouldn’t have to dig too far to reach it And if I tear it all away, pick out every blemish and imperfection Squeeze out every impure substance and strip it down until I bleed That blood Must be the beauty I hear so much about And it’s in me It runs warm and smooth, through all my organs and beats within my heart It fills me up and without it I can’t live And every time I scratch at my flesh And see that familiar, scarlet stain I imagine that the blood would pour from my wounds And flow over my features Until I am encased in its beauty I’d let it drain from my veins and my heart would stop pumping but it would seem worth it Because my lifeless body would finally display all that beauty that was inside me All that beauty I couldn’t see but tried to touch All that beauty that I so desperately want to be there Under my skin

When I was a little girl I had this cd of Jill Scott Love Rain Down on Me, on me Down on Me Jill Scott and she was not like anything I'd ever heard not like Spice Girls but she had spice, girl she was blue bluer than nypd smoother than summer breeze cooler than ice cream I wanted to be her. Love Rain Down Rain. I always loved the rain. It was dark, not like night time dark but like concrete dark like earthy ground dark like smokey bars smokin smooth cigars feeling mystery in every cell Rain. Everything looked better in the rain magical ethereal high contrast dramatic pigments and moss that looked so green (sung) against the dark tree bark it was so green (sung) and when I fell in love, I was so green (sung) Love Rain Down I always loved the rain. I wanted to be like the rain falling down down down down and I loved to fall I found every reason I could to fall like an addiction Love Rain Down I was caught caught in love affair after love affair after love affair Love Rain Down like an addiction didn't need help didn't want help because down was fun down was hot down was easy down was dirty and I felt too clean Love Rain Down Down down I was too down I forgot who I was I forgot what I loved I forgot Jill Scott I got caught falling cycles of victim cycles of poor me cycles of excuses no excuses anymore I still want to be like Jill Scott like sounds and words music and poetry together music and poetry together like music and poetry (sung) together (repeat) (sung)