Take Very Little (Ft. 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 learn how 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 feel 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