Take Very Little (feat. Chris Bernstorf)

The first time I met sarah she said that if I wanted to ever be an artist some day

I would have to dig deep inside myself and create something of expression

And I remember telling her I already sold ten thousand records

And felt like I had put in enough time to at least call myself an artist

And she said that creating entertainment and creating art are very different things

And she said that the only way that you can really create art

Is if it's honest expression of something

You can't express yourself if you don't know who you are

I was upset that she said that but there was still a part of me that was inspired

And uh, looking back on the experience of creating music

And putting everything I can into it, I have learned that it wasn't worth

It wasn't worth losing the ones that I had to to get here

And so she challenged me to write a poem about the things I wish I knew how to say. That-that's what this poem is: A response to that

I guess we can take shortcuts in the darkest corners

Because the highest earners scale the mountain with the quickest and the thick of it

And I would give up any of it to slow down

Cause maybe the sound won't be quick, but we can at least make it painless

And this game is the distribution of weight

Angles lights trying to be a star, while getting hit by comets and vomit

Which we eat to keep down negative youtube comments

The spotlight isn't part of the skillset, the [?] void of cohesive thought

When this love gives a lot and takes very little

It's brittle, so you have to love what you do and stay true

And find the right formula to not be bothered by the side effects

Hide your legs, hide your neck, hide your tears, and hide your fears

And pretend I'm the fearless leader you want me to be

Because without this fake personality, I would be performing in the streets

Watching friends turn enemies or even worse

Distant memories, or even worse

Love turned to apathy with a distant voice in my head whispering

This is the price you have to pay if you want to sell anything

And no doubt any of us would sell out if only somebody was offering

It's not about the art, it's about the swallowing

It's about the hallowing, it's about the empty vessel you want me to be

So I can record at record speed

And I'm sorry, but to me it doesn't mean anything

So please don't give up on love and don't let your hopes fall up

And don't throw up every time you think about what you could be

Because the hope was real, and everything we feel is a legitimate experience

I just wish you didn't put your faith in me

Bank notices or selfishness

Alcohol or somebody's death or somebody's words

By birth or by choice

We will all someday find ourselves shaking and barefoot before our lives collapsing

Our homes lying like dry bones in heaps of plaster and broken beams

Despair can route us there, let us calcify our bodies

Stunted into a petrified forest, poisoned and frozen by tragedy

Or we can choose perspective

Let suffering run off like the rain into the sea to reveal the truth beneath

The rock below, the peace and the floods of pain, the process

The promise that every scrap of our lives will be redeemed and reused

As the builder makes us new

That every ounce of tragedy and ash will water

And fertilize a garden of unimaginable beauty and fruit

That all of this goes somewhere, yields something

That perseverance will produce character

And character of hope that every tear really will be wiped away

That we will one day be complete, and that therefore, along the way, we can sing