It's exploding bags, aerosol cans Southbound buses, Peter Pan They left it up to us again I thought you knew the drill It's kill or be killed.

And I sing and sing of awful things The pleasure that my sadness brings.

Screaming is bad for the voice, but it's good for the heart.

I've never conceptualized much of what I write about. Maybe, once I'm onto something, I'll conceptualize a finished record. I want the songs to tie together and make sense together. I'm not like, "Oh, I want to explore this idea." That's just not how the creative process works for me. It's more like something strikes me, or finds me, and then I wrestle with it after that. I don't sit back in my armchair, like, "What kind of philosophy can I explore today?"

My dad, who plays guitar and piano and was in cover bands, along with my older brother, Matt, taught me guitar and stuff. I started writing acoustic songs and playing by myself in 7th grade.

As long as I can buy records and books and maybe some clothes, I'm pretty stoked. I don't need a yacht or anything.

Let the poets cry themselves to sleep, and all their tearful words will turn back into steam.