I started writing songs because that's what my brother did and ever since I can remember I just wanted to be like him. Until he started doing things that made me uncomfortable, like hitchhiking out to Cali and then train-hopping back home. He wrote songs of his adventures and they were inspiring. I recorded them on my phone so they would always be with me, but I lost them when I got mad and through my phone off a cliff. His songs were few of many that I lost when I did this. So when he gave me his guitar I taught myself to play his songs hoping one day at a show he would ask me to play along. I learned by playing all his songs, as well as Gary, Acro, and James, and after all these years I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I've been a part of this community since just 14 years old and I still do not know how much value I really hold because I seem to place my worth on what I hear you people say, but I'm too scared to stick around for the whole show to hear it anyway. So not many know my real name or who I am when I don't sing. I know it's my own fault, but it's the truth and it can sting. Now that you know my system I feel like the data is all flawed, but not as flawed as I am when I think you want me gone. I have a confession to make, and I am being quite sincere when I say when I first came out to shows I thought you were something to fear. I guess my dad got in my head, and knowing him I should know better, but I used to think a punk could never be a Christian debtor. I feared when you discovered how religious that I was I would be kicked out of the only place I really came to love. You don't believe the things I do. I don't believe the things you do. But you believe in me, and I believe in you. I'm afraid of confrontation yet I always start the fights. I'm bipolar, and sometimes I just can't see what is right because things can get real tough. That's what I try to sing about even if my poor vocabulary makes it hard to pick that out. I always do songwriting because it feels so therapeutic to let out all these emotions I just don't know what to do with. And I always do my best to be kind to those I write about, unless that someone is myself because I'm not someone that I care about. I put an inside joke in every song I ever write, but no one ever knows to laugh because I won't let them inside. Now I am in therapy to work on liking who I am. I feared when all this started I wouldn't write a song again because I'd have a healthy outlet for all the things I hate inside, but it turns out I can do both now and I'm starting to feel alive. I must correct myself because I'm sure I'll always want to die, but I can start to see why some people enjoy being alive. I was asked once why I talk so much about depression. Why, if I want to help people, do I just keep screaming at them? I swear I have an answer but it's quite hard to explain. I guess it's because I have so many friends with chemically imbalanced brains. And they feel lonely, or hopeless, or undesired, or just scared that they are the only ones with these emotions that randomly seem to flare. Like they are looking at the world while locked inside a little cage, and I just want them to understand that I have often felt the same. And I have many friends who try their best to understand our pain when we are hurting, but they've never had a problem with their brains. And because it is so painful when the good friends get it wrong we just stay silent. So I try to explain all that in a song, and try again, and again, and try again, and then again, because emotions are so difficult to explain to our friends. But I also sing songs about depression, about rage, about social anxieties, and suicidal states because I have to keep reminding myself that being alive is right, and that there are some things and people that make all this worth the fight. Sometimes when I write a song I get real proud of myself until I go to the next show and listen to someone else. I think maybe it's best if I quit and never waste my time on all this music and emotion and getting it to rhyme. And I can be that guy who goes to every show but never sings, and every band knows his face well but can't quite remember his name. I can support indie music from the comfort of my room, and no one would look at me and say, “Don't you write music too?” Because when people notice me I'd rather be my phone thrown off a cliff. I still don't know the difference between a progression and a riff. I'm just a kid who tells sad stories while holding a guitar, and this all feels like a dream or a nightmare that went to far. But I also do my best to address some happy thoughts because there are too many bands that only sing sad songs. Or that sing about corruption, or oppression, or of hate, and I'm sure we can find joyful things through which we can relate. For example, I have a brother who encouraged me when he gave me his guitar and he told me I could sing and people would listen because I matter to them. I will always fight the stage-fright to feel that love again. And I had a friend whose talent was far superior say, “I want you on my show because I have somebody who needs to hear ya. You may struggle with your voice or getting the guitar the way you want it, but you can show emotion in ways that anyone can feel it.” And I didn't know for a long time if my music had any value, but a friends called me up recently saying, “There's something I should tell you. You see, I left my house intending this night to be my last. I got out my iPod and I put it on full blast and I heard you sing – no, because it wasn't in the music – I felt you sing about hope and recovery and I knew I could still do this.” My friend is out there somewhere still traveling these states. And I still write music because I know somehow somewhere someone will relate.

Have you ever had your eyes opened so full of excitement in ways that you hadn't seen since you were just a few years old? Have you ever seen your bad situation up from a new light? One full of hope? I was ready to give up. I was ready to walk out. I was ready to turn my back upon this. But I have learned that we're all the same inside. We all have questions we try to hide, and we all do the best with what we've been given. I never thought I'd ever wanna see tomorrow. I never thought I'd ever love something today. I never thought I'd ever get over what happened yesterday, but I never thought I'd wanna see tomorrow. Have you ever been humbled, forced to look at yourself after you have had all of your pride removed? Have you ever struggled with your confidence to act brave once you do? Because I'm still scared to wake up. I'm still afraid to walk out. I'm still scared to go all in with this. But I have learned that we're all the same inside. We all have questions we try to hide, and we all do the best with what we've been given. I never thought I'd ever wanna see tomorrow. I never thought I'd ever love something today. I never thought I'd ever get over what happened yesterday, but I never thought I'd wanna see tomorrow.

On a bright sunny afternoon like today I am pleased to announce that I feel as great as you are looking. It got the best of me as I tried to speak. I looked sheepishly down at my two feet, but now you are speaking and I am hanging on to every word coming out of your mouth. This is what happy feels like. We are what happy looks like. I've been chasing this feeling for too much of my life. Just a couple of kids outside trying to outdo each other.

Me and my guitar are crossing the border. Gonna meet up with a couple of friends down by the river. First time out of the state to play my own songs for people that I've never met. With hours to go is it too early to be nervous? If I'm a name on a flyer in a rundown venue I wouldn't have it any other way. If I'm the pennies spent to get you into the show I hope you get to hear your favorite band play. When the music's over and it's time to go home I just wanna hear you say: “This night was worth it!” Me and my guitar are moving on after a wonderful guerrilla show on the Saskatchewan. I leave this city broke but full of memories of people I won't soon forget. With hours to go before our next stop in Alberta. If I'm a name on a flyer in a rundown venue I wouldn't have it any other way. If I'm the pennies spent to get you into the show I hope you get to hear your favorite band play. When the music's over and it's time to go home I just wanna hear you say: “This night was worth it!” Me and my guitar are homeward bound. Gonna meet up with a bunch of kids at The Underground. Canada was great but now I'm gonna play for all of my inspiring friends. With hours to go is it weird to be this excited? If I'm a name on a flyer in a rundown venue I wouldn't have it any other way. If I'm the pennies spent to get you into the show I hope you get to hear your favorite band play. When the music's over and it's time to go home I just wanna hear you say: “This night was worth it!”

I was once a glass window, stained and adorned with gem. I was still far from perfect, but I used to say I was happy then. Time's a cruel mistress. Left me bare-boned and cracked throughout the whole. Forgot what people saw from a distance is not the same thing that lies in my soul. I let their words change me. How I let those words change me. But I'm not contained by a frame on a wall anymore. No, I won't come down to your beck and call. I am up on the rooftops seeing it all. I'm not contained by a frame in a wall anymore. I feel more like a beacon shining bright on a hill and the people will come to me this time. Together we will rise up still. We won't let there words change us. Only our words can save us.

The cold. Shadows and alone. The midnight train vanishes as it goes. Pointing fingers. Sky is falling. Ground is caving in. The conductor's calling. The midnight train vanishes as it goes. I often dreamt of sneaking out, running away, going anywhere that the conductor couldn't find me, but that train could travel any distance and find me anywhere. I knew it and he knew that I knew it, and that is what gave him power. He craved it until it ran like madness through his veins. Scars run deep and he left scars deeper than most. Like a nightmare he appears leaving only pain and hate wherever he goes, vanishing until time comes he wishes to strike again. Broken and mentally drained I wait for it to end, but the train keeps moving, the blows keep coming. I try to escape but the conductor keeps shouting, “Where do you think you're going when you get out of here? I can find you anywhere.” I keep riding further into the night. My dreams are a bit faded, but they still have light. “Like a phantom,” I say, “we are drifting out of the spotlight. My time is through in the place,” I continue, “My time is through in this place,” I repeat to assure myself. The darkness now belongs to someone else. I jump to save myself. Pointing fingers. The sky is falling. The ground is caving in. The conductor's calling, but it's too late! The decision has been made. I'm on the run from the midnight train. Pointing fingers. Sky is falling. Caving in. Conductor's calling. The Midnight train.

I wake up so angry. There's never a cause. I know people get mad but I feel the wrath of the gods. Try as I might I just can't let it go without taking my pills, spending hours alone. Alone is the way I wanted to live my life, but recently solitude just doesn't feel right. Since that day we spent in the woods alone I've been dreaming of a day I would have a hand to hold. Hold on to dear life for all that you've got. When hard times come pray that it is enough. Call me pessimistic or whatever you want. I call myself a damsel and then I walk on. I call myself Damsel and then I walk on. I've slept in ditches, in fields, and in cars, swearing I'd get a house where I'd rest my heart. Turns out living indoors causes me more stress, because I can't find the money to pay my cheap rent. So I don't feel at home when I'm in my own house. I'm sick of the road so I never go out. Dreams keep getting worse so now I don't sleep. Motivation is gone so I no longer eat. Hold on for dear life to all that you've got. When hard times come pray that it is enough. Call me pessimistic or whatever you want. I call myself a damsel and then I walk on. I call myself Damsel and then I walk on.