[00:09.97]There's a method to the madness of this attic I'm accustomed to
[00:12.77]But every spring I try to visit with a brush and broom
[00:15.07]Dust consumes this collection of souvenirs
[00:17.27]And tonight I'd like to erase any proof that you were here
[00:19.84]Let's begin with a look inside of a shoe box
[00:22.39]Here's my youthful aspiration to be 2pac
[00:25.08]A book on Darwin with photos of the Galapagos
[00:27.65]Here's a picture of the father that I never got to know
[00:30.15]A shot my mother bathing her babies in a sink
[00:32.51]A mediocre poem that I wrote in golden ink
[00:35.03]And over here is a crate of academic records
[00:37.55]I traded in for vinyl when I learned I could apply em better
[00:40.07]It's apparent that I haven't cleaned in ages when I'm finding
[00:42.59]Social studies books with porn between the pages
[00:44.79]Born in fetal stages and cluttered ever since
[00:47.32]This attic needs the vacancy to make some room to think
[00:49.87]But in the corner there's a chest that's under lock and key
[00:52.42]And possibly the target of the cleansing
[00:55.03]And as it opens there's a part of me that's over it and part of me
[00:57.47]That wants to keep remembering
[01:20.21]Dear John
[01:20.89]I'm ecstatic that we met and I
[01:22.57]Haven't been upset from the night we spoke on the beach
[01:24.61]It feels like there's a part of me that's hollow
[01:27.14]And I'll follow you because I think you've got the missing piece
[01:29.80]Dear John
[01:30.76]Can't believe it's been a year, wish that you were here with me in this unfamiliar city
[01:34.54]I know you're insecurities are eating you alive, but I'm thinking of your eyes every time we...
[01:39.72]Dear John,
[01:40.63]I'm the victim of a city serpent's venom and I'm being sent away
[01:43.38]In search of purpose
[01:44.62]It hurts that anniversaries are only words to me and lately I've been wondering why you thought I was worth it
[01:49.70]She ran shoe less through shards of my heart of glass toward a garden of golden roses with invisible thorns
[01:54.58]And her presence in my attic is an umbilical cord that pulls my physical form towards her miserable storm
[01:59.69]I stripped the picture frames of their faces
[02:01.90]And liberated shackled chain letters from my ankles and wrists
[02:04.51]And kept my fingers from the edges of the envelopes and anything
[02:07.20]That might have had a dance with her lips