113 Conor Oberst Quotes
Conor Oberst writes heartfelt, poetic musings about love, art and identity.
Conor Oberst quotes
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The world's become a little too mean.
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And me I'm in my bedroom drawing in my notebook Because my hand thinks I'm an artist But my heart knows I'm a poet It's just words they mean so little to me.
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My Brother went to college To become a doctor And if he studies hard enough He'll end up just like papa, who hates his life.
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And me I'm in the bathroom crying out my eyelids because it's hard to be a man when you're scared, just like a little kid.
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I swear that I'm dying slowly but it's happening, and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere... just take me there.
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In a coma, you don't dream, you just hope that someone sits with you.
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And the sad act like lepers They stick to the shadows They long to ring bells of warning To tell of their coming So that the pure can shut their doors.
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And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her. She had eyes bright enough to burn me. They reminded me of yours.
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I drug your ghost across the country, and we plotted out my death.
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It rose like thunder, clapped under our hands
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And I sing and sing of awful things The pleasure that my sadness brings.
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But I talk in the mirror to the stranger that appears our conversations are circles,always one sided Nothing is clear Except we keep coming back,to this meaning that I lack He says the choices were given,now i must live them Or just not live,but do you want that?
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For a sunrise or a sunset, you're manic or you're depressed. Will you ever feel ok?
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You see your breath in the air as you'll climb up the stairs to that coffin you call your apartment.
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I think it is more like a ghost that has been following us both. Something vague that we're not seeing, something more like a feeling.
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If you wanna see the future, Go stare into a cloud.
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If the world could remain within a frame Like a painting on a wall, Then I think we would see the beauty, then We would stand staring in awe At our still lives posed Like a bowl of oranges, Like a story told By the fault lines and the soil.
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Ambition, I've found, can lead only to failure. I do not read the reviews. No, I am not singing for you.
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You write such pretty words, but life's no story book.
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I got a hunger and I can't seem to get full I need some meaning I can memorize The kind I have always seems to slip my mind.
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Love's an excuse to get hurt and to hurt. Do you like to hurt? I do,I do then hurt me.
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Bad actors with bad habits Some sad singers They just play tragic.
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So you think I need some discipline, well, I had my share. I have been sent to my room. I've been sat in a chair. I held my tongue. I didn't plug my ears. No, I got a good talking to. And now I don't know why, but I still try to smile when they talk at me like I'm just a child. Well, I'm not a child. No, I am much younger than that. And now I have read some books and have grown quite brave. If only I could just speak up I think I would say that there is no truth. There is only you and what you make the truth.
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If I sold my soul for a bag of gold to you, which one of us would be the foolish one?
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There is no truth. There is only you and what you make the truth.
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He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
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Your eyes are poor. You're blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me. I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time.
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Will my number come up eventually? Like Love's some kind of lottery, where you scratch and see what's underneath. It's 'Sorry', just one cherry, or 'Play Again.' Get lucky.
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So I've been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride. I just sit and watch the people there. And they remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
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Just then my knees give under me, my head feels weak and suddenly it's clear to see it's not them, but me, who's lost my self identity.
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As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me.
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My head's a carousel of pictures and The spinning never stops.
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And I'm trying to be assertive, I'm making plans Gonna rise to the occasion and meet all their demands But all I do is lay in bed And hide under the covers.
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Yeah I know I should be brave But I'm just too afraid of all this change.
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But now I've got to crawl to get anywhere at all I'm not as strong as I thought.
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Everything that happens is supposed to be And it's all pre-determined, can't change your destiny Guess I'll just keep moving, someday maybe I'll get to where I'm going.
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For a song I was bought Now I lie when I talk With 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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If I could act like This was my real life, And not some cage where I've been placed, Well then, I could tell you The truth like I used to And not be afraid of sounding fake.
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Fuck my face. Fuck my name, They are brief and false advertisements... ...For a soul I don't have.
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But I found in a song And in the people I love, They will lift me up out of darkness.
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But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility? It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody! How grateful I was, then, to be part of the mystery, To love, and to be loved! Let's just hope that is enough.
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We're all too busy working, entertaining ourselves With forty hours of television and prescription pills Well, I take two a day to help my brain behave It never does, but who's to say? At least my doctor gets paid.
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'Cause a costume can be comfortable It can make you feel more beautiful It can even make you look like someone else But it's still you, so there's nothing you can do Like a bad habit, the one you couldn't kick, there it always is And it's nothing that no doctor's gonna fix.
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I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss So many men stronger than me Have thrown their backs out trying to lift it.
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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 good woman will pick you apart A box full of suggestions for your possible heart But you may be offended and you may be afraid But don't walk away, don't walk away.
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But it all boils down to one quotable phrase If you love something, give it away.
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And there's kids playing guns in the streets And one's pointing his tree branch at me So I put my hands up I say 'Enough is enough, If you walk away I walk away.' And he shot me dead.
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The end of paralysis, I was a statuette, now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench, and when I press the keys it all gets reversed, the sound of loneliness makes me happier.
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And I'm glad you got away, But I'm still stuck out here, My clothes are soaking wet, From your brother's tears.
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And I never thought this life was possible,You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for.
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Well, I could have been a famous singer If I had someone else's voice But failure's always sounded better Let's fuck it up, boys, make some noise!
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So when you're asked to fight a war that's over nothin' It's best to join the side thats gonna win And no one's ever sure how all of this got started But we're gonna make them goddamn certain how it's gonna end!
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I have my drugs, I have my woman, They keep away my lonliness. My parents, they have their religion, but sleep in separate houses.
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I want to be the surgeon who cuts you open Who fixes all of life's mistakes I want to be the house that you were raised in The only place where you feel safe.
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I know I'm just the weather against your window As you sleep through a winter's dream.
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I hear if you make friends with Jesus Christ, you will get right up from that chalk outline. And then you'll get dolled up, and you'll dress in white all to take your place in his chorus line. And then in you'll come with those marching drums in a saintly compromise. No more whiskey slurs, no more blonde-haired girls for your whole eternal life. And you'll do the dance that was choreographed at the very dawn of time. Singing 'I told you son, the day would come you would die, you'd die you'd die you'd die you'd die'.
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Sometimes I worry that I've lost the plot My twitching muscles tease my flippant thoughts I never really dreamed of heaven much Until we put him in the ground.
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There's nothing As lucky As easy Or free.
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You took off your clothes and left on the light, You stood there so brave, you used to be shy, Each feature improved, each movement refined, And eyes like a showroom.
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I must have looked like a ghost, Cause' something frightened me. And since then I've been so good at vanishing.
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Now I do as I please And I lie through my teeth Someone might get hurt But it won't be me I should probably feel cheap But I just feel free Or a little bit empty.
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If you stay to long Inside my memory I will trap you in a song Tied to a melody And I'll keep you there so You can't bother me.
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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.
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The squatters made a mural of a Mexican girl With fifteen cans of spray paint and a chemical swirl She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world Four winds blowing through her hair.
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Well, I went back by rented Cadillac and company jet Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps All the way to Cassadaga to commune with the dead They said, 'You'd better look alive.'
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On a detox loft through a Glendale Park over sidewalk chalk Someone wrote in red, 'start over.'
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Oh, I've made love, yeah, I've been fucked, so what? I'm a cartoon, you're a full moon, let's stay up.
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See the Soul Singer in the session band Shredded to ribbons beneath a microphone stand Felt the quickness of pity like a flash in a pan For the Soul Singer in the session band.
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You mean nothing to no one but that's nobody's fault.
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Little soldier, little insect You know war it has no heart It will kill you in the sunshine Or happily in the the dark Where kindness is a card game Or a bent up cigarette In the trenches, in the hard rain With a bullet and a bet.
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See the sterile soil Poisoned sky Yellow water Final scraps of light bringing new tears So wake, baby, wake But leave that blanket round you There's nowhere as safe I'm leaving this place But there is nothing I'm planning to take Just you, just you.
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Leave the acid kids in their green fishbowls today.
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Let the true genius in the padded walls remain.
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Everything must belong somewhere. I know that now, that's why I'm staying here.
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Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much.
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So pleased with a daydream, that now living's no good.
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Alright this is a love song; I don't know if you guys are into love around here or what but.. I don't know, it's pretty rad.
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Do you guys consider yourselves to live in the country? [audience reaction]... I heard half 'yes'es and have 'no's, so I guess you're confused.
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Don't listen, just leave.
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I can almost listen to a whole Justin Timberlake song without cringing. I do get a bit bummed out when it comes to Ashlee Simpson though.
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I feel like we've got a lot of good karma stored up here in Columbus. A few years ago we played here and got kicked out of this club because we started a riot while we were playing, a cop threw Mike over a bike, and like, I pushed a cop, so we drove off in our van, playing our song, and we come back the next day to load all our stuff, we realized left this unmarked, black bag. It's got all our contracts from the shows we played, $12,000 cash, half a bottle of wine, a bottle of vodka, and a joint. And we realize we left it on the sidewalk. We go back to get it, and of course its gone, so I feel like we've got all this good karma here because we probably made someones day. I'd like to think that a single mom picked it up..and.. sent her kids to.. the doctor or something. But uh..probably not. Probably someone just had a big fuckin' party.
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I like to feel the burn of the audience's eyes when I'm whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone
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I'd rather put a fucking gun to my head than live in your state
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Screaming is bad for the voice, but it's good for the soul.
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The whole ideology of indie rock doesn't hold any water anymore; it's not that clear-cut. Every time we sell a record, Time Warner gets a dime from our distributor. I already give a ridiculous amount of my income to the United States government, which is probably the most evil organization on the planet as far as killing people; I don't know how many bombs I've purchased with my tax dollars. Unless you're gonna live on a mountain somewhere, you're not gonna be free of the modern world and all the evils that go with it. What you can do is operate with intelligence and be compassionate, help people when you can. Do things not just for money, but for the craft of it.
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This next song is about train hopping. I don't know if there are any hobos in the audience...
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This one goes out to Dick Cheney and his army of satan.
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This song is about waking up from a really, really long nightmare
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We're all a little broken. We're all a little twisted. We're all less than we could be or want to be.
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Well, I mean...there are certainly worse things to be called
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When it rains it pours, they say. My guess is that its those damned English terrorists with their weather machine, trying to ruin our fun.
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Well, if you die... that's a bummer...
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Also attributed
On good days, I can see the inherent goodness in people, and that human beings have a high capacity to learn and adapt. But things like the environment, nuclear weapons and ideas like peak oil - if you think about them too much, they can really freak you out.
Because the truth is that gossip is as good as gospel in this town. You can save face but you won't ever save your soul. And that's a fact.
I've given up trying to understand what people think about me. It seems like a lot of people don't like the music we make and don't know me, or something.
You can't manufacture inspiration, so a lot of it is still a waiting game for me. There's still a lot of mystery to songwriting. I don't have a method that I can go back to - they either come or they don't.
Cause I swear that I'm dying, slowly but its happening.
In a way, to have whatever people talk about as "crossover success," I think it means you start making bad music. I mean, when I'm flipping through the channels and see the VMAs or something, I don't really see any music there.
Men with purple hearts carry silver guns and they will kill a man for what his father has done. But what my father did, I don't live it: no, I am not him.
There's a major underlying idea as you grow up that you need to just save your money and get that affordable housing at the edge of town where you're away from the city where all the crime happens or whatever.
To finish a song is the best feeling in the world.
I've been part of running a label since I was a kid, so I understand how it works. But the more and more I learn about it, the less and less interested I am in it.
I'm ripe for the picking for the Scientologists - one of those creeps. Someone's got to find me. Some little weird cult can just pluck me up, because I'm ripe for the picking.
When I run into a person or a kid that comes up and gives me the spiel about, 'Hey, I got your record at this time in my life, and it really helped me,' that stuff totally still rings true. If you're standing there talking to someone, it's really easy to tell if they're being authentic or not. And that's great.
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.
I think there's a weird self-affirmation thing that happens in popular music in general. It seems like every song I hear on the radio is like, "Listen to me roar!" or "This is my fight song!"
I do think that music has a special ability to get behind enemy lines and win hearts and minds.
Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness.
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.
I'll write about myself, or people I know, or archetypal characters, but the goal is to get at some truth, not to necessarily convey my own experience as an individual to the world.
It's always the negative things that seep through into your consciousness. Most of the positive things just roll off real fast. I just try not to pay attention to it, because I've never read anything about my band that's accurate.
I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love.