Open Ocean Video (MV)

There is no more
Lonesome feeling
Than watching storms roll in
From the open ocean
Smell of jet fuel
Wish I was less cruel
Taste of whiskey
Am I the fool
Wish I was there that night
When the last poet died
Sure he was pretentious and wise and could
Tell good lies
I want to touch the windows
And my skin not thin
Like a mud in summer or a bog with no rain
Maybe I'll train my eyes to find the alligator tears in a picture of vodka
We talk so much here we forget what's lies
I had to ask what is rain
A dumbass bummer
To find out my skin could not find
The opening in
We'd die to find better styles
In a black maw filled with carrion flies
If they'd see us dig for them
They'd cry to hold our necks tight
I am sick
To fear the taste of death
Wish the poets were more cruel
Sacrifice me in a pool
And on the placid pacific pond
Watching the clouds roll on
No thing is more lonesome than I
No thing is more lonesome than, than I