boys night out, trainwreck

Boys Night OutTrainwreck

1 .

I N T R O D U C I N G

Initial Diagnosis: Catatonic.

The wounds seem to be healing, and he seems to be getting along without his appendages, and I know he seems fine, But ‘seems’ can be a very dangerous word, especially in this business, it can be fatal.

I know he’s back there somewhere

This man’s tragedy has made him a prisoner in his own body. And it’s not just tragedy, it’s dementia, despair; it’s this hole I can see in each of his eyes, where all the events that happen in this real world kind of just fall through. It’s loneliness in it’s most crippling form, the kind that no amount of love, or human contact, could ever mend.

The patient was plagued by violent nightmares, terrible, deeply troubling dreams, which one night overflowed in to reality, and he murdered his wife, in his sleep.

These people were in love, deeply in love. And it was that love filling those holes that I can now see behind his eyes. And it’s my job to try and fill those holes with something else.

But with what? Hope? I can try to fill those holes with drugs, soothing words, but that’s all.

I hope his wounds will heal with time, but right now, things aren’t looking good.

TH

E

LI

NE

S

I

WE

AR

AR

OU

ND

MY

W

RI

ST

AR

E

TH

ER

E

TO

P

RO

VE

TH

AT

I

EX

IS

T

2 .

D R E A M

I N G

I A M

SHAPE

LESS

FORM

LESS

I A M

FORM

LESS

On some nights I’m better left alone

On some nights you’ll find me falling

W A K E

U P

you’re bu

ried...or su

ffocating

...

.............or worse

T H I S

C O M A

K I S S I S

I N F I N I T E a n d y o u r b o d y t u r n i n g

b l u e a s y o u l a y

d i r e c t l y n e x t t o m e

c o l o r s t h i s o n e

i n b l u i s h h u e s a n d

d a r k e r g r e y s

T H I S

C O M A

K I S S I S

I N F I N I T E a n d y o u r b o d y t u r n i n g

b l u e a s y o u l a y

d i r e c t l y n e x t t o m e

c o l o r s t h i s o n e

i n b l u i s h h u e s a n d

d a r k e r g r e y s

we are this dream - fluid and intricate

so this is what has become

of everything that I loved

the betrayal and the blood

became inseparable

from the most beautiful

nightmare I’ve ever hadC O M P L E T E L YI N S E P A R A B L E

C O M P L E T E L YI N S E P A R A B L E

3 .

W A K I N G

Make this a dream because I really can’t believe that she’s gone

I ’ M

N O T

H E R E

A N D

T H I S

I S N ’ T

HAPPENING

I C A N ’ T

B E L I E V E

T H A T

S H E ’ S

G O N E

Mar

vel

as t

his

mad

man

, as

th

is m

akes

hif

t-m

onst

er r

ips

thro

ug

h t

he

room

.

Wat

ch i

n f

ear

as h

e co

mes

com

ple

tely

un

glu

ed.

WE’LL

WAKE

UP AND

SHE’LL

BE NEXT

TO ME

I can’t breathe

I D O N ’ T

D E S E R V E

T O T A K E

T H E S E

B R E A T H S

I C A N ’ T F E E LNumb to everything

I C A N ’ T

B E L I E V E

T H A T

S H E ’ S

G O N EWE’LL

WAKE

UP AND

SHE’LL

BE NEXT

TO ME

4 .

S E N T E N C I N G

my name is evidence, my role is undeniable, unless I’ve become inadmissible in crimes of consequence

I’m only as reliable as the

defendant’s defense is defendable

I’m

un

wil

lin

g t

o be

sti

ll a

nd a

ccep

t th

is e

vil

as m

y ow

n p

erso

nal

an

d s

enti

ent

wil

l.

when murder’s just a mistake that you have made

nothing makes sense anymore,

“It’s this hole I can see in each of his eyes...

where all of the events that happen in this

real world kind of just fall through”

IT

’S

LO

NE

LI

-

NE

SS

IT

’S

LO

NE

LI

-

NE

SS

5 .

M E D I C A T I N G

When you wake up to white walls and endless hallsthere’s an emptiness that echoes through it all

Can’t you see that I don’t need this place?Doctor, doctor what am I here for?

Can’t you see that I don’t need this place?

I D O N ’ T

N E E D

T H E S E

W A L L S

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

I D O N ’ T

N E E D

T H E S E

W A L L Sand I regret it every dayif I could make things right,

you know I’d find a way

Yes I know what I’ve done

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

Doctor, I can’t thank you enough

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

Doctor you won’t regret this.

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

I ’ M N O

T H R E A T

A T A L L

6 .

P U R G I N G

The first night after you’re release,

no one expects you to get much sleep

you’re the waking, walking dead

walk to the kitchen and grab a marker

T R A C E

T H E

P A T H

T H E

B L O O D

W I L L

F L O W

TH

E

LI

NE

S

I

WE

AR

AR

OU

ND

MY

W

RI

ST

AR

E

TH

ER

E

TO

P

RO

VE

TH

AT

I

EX

IS

T

these nightmare lines, an empty heartwe take for granted all the things that make us who we are

I’m th

e perfect p

icture of com

placen

cy and th

at’s all I feel

the perfect blade, was a perfect whiteagainst the perfect lines, from last perfect night

here lies clarity in a perfect grave comprised of perfect steel

as the h

orror fills th

eir eyes s

lo

w m

otio

n r

epla

ces

real

tim

e

THESE

CLAWS WILL

NEVER KILL

AGAIN

T H E L I N E S

I W E A R

A R O U N D

M Y W R I S T

ARE THERE

TO PROVE

THAT I

EXIST

T H E L I N E S

I W E A R

A R O U N D

M Y W R I S T

ARE THERE

TO PROVE

THAT I

EXIST

I am a monster, clothed in crimson sleevesand perforated lines where my wrists should be

A warehouse full of workers scramble like a pack of bewildered wolves

and I fall.

as my world turns black...

A warehouse full of workers scramble like a pack of bewildered wolves

7 .

R E L A P S I N G

it might not be the keyTo fix the memory of you and me

S U R G E R Y

There’s more to this than my Ex-love and my ex-limbs could ever in my life begin to explain

A S O N G

S O A W F U L

A N D S O

P E R F E C TEverytime I think of her and what went on that nightI don’t see it, instead I hear it.

Its like each word and every chord refuses to be ignored

I need this song to be shouted outAnd to be heard by everyone

Its like each word and every chord refuses to be ignored

I need this song to be shouted outAnd to be heard by everyone

THIS IS

BIGGER

THAN ME

But with no hands and even less skillI don’t know how it ever will come out

it might not be the keyTo fix the memory of you and me

S U R G E R Y

In such a way to bring out beautyThen, well, who am I to stop it?

I’ll bring her back and I won’t stop until it’s doneU N T I L T H I S

N I G H T M A R E ’ S

U N D O N E

I think it’s her I hearIt’s always beenBut if this pain can be arranged

I

NEED

HER

I

N

EE

D

HE

R

I

N

EE

D

TH

IS

The saddest songs can sing themselves, and just sing along

So if death’s the answer,

then the question

is the triggerand I’m just the firing pin

I’

M

JU

ST

A

ME

SS

EN

GE

RDO

OM

ED

TO

DE

TO

NA

TE

ON

DE

LI

VE

RY

DO

OM

ED

TO

DE

TO

NA

TE

ON

DE

LI

VE

RY

8 .

R E C O V E R I N G

these w

alls are un

forgivin

g

One pill will get me through the day but I take two anyway

when I take three pills

Its in the back of my head and its everywhereand its all I can think about

TH

E

SO

NG

B

EG

IN

S

TO

P

LA

Y

the song begins to play

one that won’t go away.

comatose alm

ost

B E T W E E N

H A L F W A Y

L I V I N G

AND

HALFWAY

LYING

I float between hospitals

B E T W E E N

H A L F W A Y

L I V I N G

AND

HALFWAY

LYING

I take my medicine and make them believe that I’m a better man

and halfway homes

but still I hear the song

surrounding me and ringing in my ears.

I T S

E V E R Y

W H E R E

I T S

E V E R Y

W H E R E

the perfect song will call for sedatives, sacrifice and sing-alongs

SO

S

IN

G

AL

ON

G

9 .

C O M P O S I N G

It’s all about the song in my head

The one where the audience is all dead

I’ve begged friends and family for forgivenessAnd now for the first time

SO

C

OM

E

SI

NG

W

IT

H

ME

Together we’ll live this song I’ve been living incessantly

together we’ll witness

I S E E

H E R

F A C E

MY LOVE,

MY HEART

And the world will sing it

To me it’s everything

I HEAR

HER

LAUGHTER

S H E ’ S

S T I L L

A L I V E

I wrote this song

It’s all about the song in my head

The one where the audience is all dead

O N L Y

T H R O U G H

D E A T H

O U R

V O I C E S

W I L L

J O I N

T O G E T H E R

1 0 .

D I S I N T E G R A T I N G

This halfway house is home to a madman.His ghosts, and his perfect song

AB

AN

DO

N

AL

L

HO

PE

,

YE

W

HO

EN

TE

R

HE

RE

I’ve sensed her here, but I know that we’re destined

to stay seperated.

t

his

is

all

my

fau

lt.

It’s worsening, and my song demands an ending

K A R M A

C A N ’ T

C O N T R O L

T H E

B E A S TCLOSURE

SO

F

OR

GI

VE

ME

,

LO

VE

I’

M

CH

OO

SI

NG

A

FI

TT

IN

G

EN

D

TO

T

HE

AB

US

IN

G

1 1 .

H E A L I N G

TO

NI

GH

T,

IT

’S

W

OR

SE

TO

NI

GH

T,

TH

E

SC

RE

AM

IN

G

HU

RT

S

music this magnificentand medicine are one and the samethey make life worth living; hearts worth healing

they make life worth living; hearts worth healing

1 2 .

D Y I N G

Picture yourself in a nightmarish

scene of such grotesque complexity

that you’d kill to be dreaming.

Your body’s been dying, while your mind

has been trying to make you picture a life

where you’d kill for your lover

and a song in your head.

The deaths of countless others

merely set up the lyrics for your symphony.

That’s where you’ll find me.

God, what’s happened here? He’s completely torn his entire apartment apartThe smell is overpowering... a foul, pungent odor,Like rotten food or I don’t know, possibly something worse.But there’s something else that’s almost overpowering...

I think its a woman’s perfume. Oh no... no!

I found the patient, he’s lying on the floor in the center of the living roomCompletely naked, emaciated, deathly pale.

It appears he hasn’t eaten anything at all for weeksThe infection has spread up his arms, it must have reached his brainThere’s bulging, bright red veins all the way up from his wrist to his neck

There’s empty bottles everywhere... alcohol, medication...My god this smell is sickening!

There’s blood coming out of his mouth, nose, ears...

He’s not dead yet, but he’s close

I failed, this is my fault!And somehow, he’s smiling at me, I think he’s whispering something,No, not just whispering, I think he’s singing...

This is the end. This is death.

T H E L I N E S

I W E A R

A R O U N D

M Y W R I S T ARE THERE

TO PROVE

THAT I

EXIST

We were inseperable.

a story in 12 parts, revisited 10 years after the original releaseMusic: Boys Night Out 2005

Art: Brian Culmo 2015

boys night out, trainwreck

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