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by VJ Kapur

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1.
03:51
2.
03:32

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released January 4, 2011

All songs/parts written, performed, and (sorta) produced by VJ Kapur.

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Track Name: Quarterlife
We weave the timelines, infinite and intricate,
and plot the moments, color-marked and weighted.
It wasn't long ago that it seemed adequate
to leave the dates inferred.

So set the deadlines and let the pressure immerse us.
We're radioactive, but stabilizing quickly;
splitting our time, once and again, endlessly,
'til just a moment's left.


You'll whisper to me once again
of miracles, but I'm cynical
from decades in obscurity
spent trivially.

Tell me you and I were meant for more than this;
well, I'm curious.
My quarterlife decay has been so
perilously tedious.


I trace the outlines, precise and elaborate
and shade the spaces darkened by our failure
to see it now with overwhelming clarity,
a mapping of it all.


Recursively, we watch ourselves grow old.
Track Name: Words
My words don't come easily anymore.
And as I stammer on a last attempt at
how I feel, I know I'll be ignored.
You don't even hear me now.
I'm just a fading memory there
in your fragile mind, left behind.

Skip to the moments
when everything is still, love.
Every staggered beating of your heart
is amplified and hypnotizing.


Should the guilt weigh strongly
once I'm gone,
remind yourself you've done no wrong.
Know all the shame will remain
until you can't recall my name,
so just forget it.


It's been a thousand sleepless
nights while my thoughts race
and if a bleary dream takes focus,
all I see is: your face
sideways, obscured, and staring into space,
and scowling listless and resistant to
anything that I say
with weapons exposed
for melodrama's sake.

Then glare from glistening bare metal
flashes the whole scene away.


It's been stagnant on the tongue
of this neurotic mess I've become,
all along.

I'm decaying at the seams
from these degenerative daydreams,
hardly sane.

Tell me how it ends;
a boy and his fantasies all torn to shreds?
And I'm missing you from just
a couple feet away?
It's more than I can take.


It won't be all that late
when I pack up a few things
and, in the blink of an eye, vanish.
Suppose I'm out somewhere
dwelling on mistakes
and on the moments when awareness of a single thing
could've changed everything.


Should the nights seem long
after I'm gone,
black out each line of my every song.
Know that all the shame will remain
until you can't recall my name.

So just forget it.

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