yard letters

Following my other Lars playlist I really wanted to make one that focuses on Lars’s and Sadie’s turbulent, complicated relationship with its ups and downs.

Thanks to my BFF Taylor @blessedthrice for helping me make this!!!

╰☆╮———– ╰☆╮ ———– ╰☆╮

And this is why I have decided
to pull these old white sheets from my head
I’ll leave them folded neat and tidy
so that you’ll know I’m out of hiding

I feel like a fool
so I’m going to stop troubling you
buried in my yard
a letter to send to you

She’s on his mind day and night,
thinks he takes her for granted but to her surprise,
he needs her more than she needs him.

Let’s get fucked up and die
I’m speaking figuratively, of course
like the last time that I committed suicide,
social suicide

I got no job I got no money got no self esteem
I take a Xanax every morning for anxiety
I take a beer and take another then I’m gonna call her
I’ll probably end up fuckin’ up and makin’ it feel awkward…

Having sex in the morning your love was foreign to me
it made me think maybe human is not such a bad thing to be
I just laid there in protest, entirely fucked
it’’s such a stubborn reminder one perfect night’s not enough 

Sorry I didn’t kiss you
but it’s obvious I wanted to
bubble gum down my throat and it’s a curse
but my luck couldn’t get any worse

I feel like I don’t deserve the love that I receive
I feel like I don’t live up to all that I believe

And I can’t be arsed to carry on in this debate
that reoccurs ,oh when you say I don’t care
well of course I do, yeah I clearly do!

And since I’m young enough, and
since I’m dumb enough, and
since I’m arrogant, since I have not seen enough
I suppose I assume there were some loose guidelines
as to what to do to avoid this sense of certitude

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you
and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care
and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t kiss you

Your body was warm when
I laid by your side
I said “I’m glad I have found you
and I’m glad we’re alive”

Who would you rather be
The Beatles or The Rolling Stones
oh seriously, you’re gonna make mistakes,
you’re young 

Well I’m about to spend my whole life cutting corners, placing blame
any moment this could catch fire, erasing all the stains
so here’s to starting over, we could be the same
we’ll change it all together, the future’s mine to claim 

I wanna take a bath with you
and wash the chaos from my skin
I wanna fall in love with you
so how do we begin ?

╰☆╮———– ╰☆╮ ———– ╰☆╮ 

I feel like a fool so I’m going to stop troubling you
Buried in my yard, a letter to send to you
And if I forget, or god forbid die too soon
Hope that you’ll hear me, know that I wrote to you

― Tegan and Sara - “Soil, Soil”


Jack The Ripper is the best known name given to an unidentified serial killer or killers active in the largely impoverished areas in and around the Whitechapel district in the East End of London in 1888. The name originated in a letter written by someone claiming to be the murderer that was disseminated in the media. The letter is widely believed to have been a hoax, and may have been written by journalists in an attempt to heighten interest in the story and increase their newspaper’s circulation.

Attacks ascribed to Jack the Ripper typically involved female prostitutes who lived and worked in the slums of London and whose throats were cut prior to abdominal mutilations. This modus opperandi, the removal of internal organs from at least three of the victims led to proposals that their killer possessed anatomical or surgical knowledge. Rumours that the murders were connected intensified in September and October 1888, and letters from a writer or writers purporting to be the murderer were received by media outlets and Scotland Yard. The “From Hell” letter, received by George Lusk of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, included half of a preserved human kidney, purportedly taken from one of the victims. Mainly because of the extraordinarily brutal character of the murders, and because of media treatment of the events, the public came increasingly to believe in a single serial killer known as “Jack the Ripper”.

Jack The Ripper is said to have had five victims, known as the canonical five: Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes and Mary Jane Kelly, all murdered between 31 August and 9 November 1888. As the murders were never solved, the legends surrounding them became a combination of genuine historical research, folklore, and pseudohistory.

The term “ripperology” was coined to describe the study and analysis of the Ripper cases. There are now over one hundred theories about the Ripper’s identity, including, widely believed (at the time) that Queen Victoria’s grandson, Prince Albert was infact the Ripper. Although recently anouced was that Aaron Kominsky, a Polish Jew whose name appears in many historical registers of lunatics and in multiple asylums, was Jack The Ripper, this is yet to be approved by everyone.

Perhaps most interesting is a fairly recent suspect that has come to light, James Maybrick, a factory owner from Liverpool, who’s wife was said to have poisoned him. He is said to have had a dairy, writing in detail the murders that “Jack” carried out, however the is disregarded by many historians as there are erroneous statements(about where he placed the organs etc) that render this diary a fake. However, in 1993 a man was said to have purchased a golden pocket watch with the five vicitims initials carved into it, along with “J. Maybrick” and the words “I am Jack.

Jack The Ripper is to this day, one of the most infamous serial killers in history.

i needed our love to die out slowly.

and i know that sounds crazy, because who wants to watch something they love shrivel up like leaves do in the fall? nobody does, nobody wants to see anything die.

but i needed to, i needed to watch the trees turn brown in the yard. i needed to pour salt on our love and i needed to watch it burn.

i needed to see it– i needed to see that we could die out. i needed to know we couldn’t last forever.

and i think that’s why i always kept coming back, like even though we cut our veins, the blood still flowed and i kept watching it pool up on my skin and stain my sheets and god i still kept loving you. i kept loving you under burnt bridges and broken ties.

and loving you was not good for me, it never was, but i couldn’t stop because i didn’t know how to let you go if i couldn’t figure out if we were really bulletproof or if we’d just die on impact.

so i watched us die.

i had to watch our love get shot in the chest a couple times and i had to sit down and give myself time to realize that soon it would be over– soon everything would be gone. i had to see you begin to get tired of me, i had to feel myself letting you go, i had to look at you everyday and just feel what i once had a little bit less every time.

and i’m sorry for dragging it on for so long– but i just had to know i could stop loving you before i could ever truly recognize that the person i once loved so much was gone.


and now we’re just dead leaves in the yard


 letters i’ll never send