Conor Oberst Quotes
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There is no Hell when you die so don't look so worried
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If I die tonight, then I guess I die tonightLet me go on.
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And I sing and sing of awful thingsThe pleasure that my sadness brings.
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And me I'm in my bedroom drawing in my notebookBecause my hand thinks I'm an artistBut my heart knows I'm a poetIt's just words they mean so little to me.
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I understand why people get desensitized and roll their eyes when they hear a protest song, or even a politician making some flowery speech. It doesn't really change anything.
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Now I'm hunched over a typewriterI guess you call that paintin' in a caveAnd there's a word I can't rememberand a feeling I cannot escape
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Well, I could have been a famous singerIf I had someone else's voiceBut failure's always sounded betterLet's fuck it up, boys, make some noise!
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I want to be the surgeon who cuts you openWho fixes all of life's mistakesI want to be the house that you were raised inThe only place where you feel safe.
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If the world could remain within a frameLike a painting on a wall,Then I think we would see the beauty, thenWe would stand staring in aweAt our still lives posedLike a bowl of oranges,Like a story toldBy the fault lines and the soil.
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My parents ask if I'm alright; I say 'I've just been staying up too late.I need to sleep' I need to do something!To get this awful weight up off my chest,keep her pretty ghost from chasing me!
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So I will find my fears and face themor I will cower like a dogI will kick and scream or kneel and pleadI'll fight like hell to hide that I've given up
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I like the Alice in Wonderland sculpture in Central Park. I love how it's been rained on forever and looks worn down by time.
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so immagine what you want and hold onto that thoughtcause thats as close as it will ever comeand believe you're were you're arekeep acting out the partbut at the end of the daythe trees all get wheeled awayand you'll be standing alone in a blank, blank space
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For a song I was boughtNow I lie when I talkWith a careful eye on the cue card.Onto a stage I was pushed,With my sorrow well rehearsed.So give me all your pity and your money, now (all of it).
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My head's a carousel of pictures andThe spinning never stops.
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so believe you're who you areand stay in characterbut at the end of the play the audience walks awayand ill be shivering cold on a well lit stage
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One by one I drowned all the people I’d been.
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The world's become a little too mean.
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And I'm sorry about the phone call and needing youSome decisions you don't makeI guess it's just like breathing or not wanting toThere are some things you can't fake
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I'd rather be working for a paycheck, than waiting to win the lottery.Besides, maybe this time it's different, I mean,I really think you like me.
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A kid that picks up a record, he doesn't need to know anything other than the music and have it in his or her headphones. They're getting ideas directly, it's like someone whispering in their ear. That's such a personal way to receive information.
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A lot of the mythology that sprung up around Haile Selassie, it's not like something he asked for, having people deify him. That's pretty heavy. I don't know what you do in that situation.
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And you speak of a fever, that burns you inside,as you explain to your mother, how you've wanted to die.So she kisses your fingers, and says 'My darling, but why?When there is so much more. There is so much more.'
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We're all too busy working, entertaining ourselvesWith forty hours, television and prescription pills Well, I take two a day to help my brain behaveIt never does, but who's to say? At least my doctor gets paid.