Turns out I just needed to start reading:
Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2002 02:38:42 -0500 (EST)
Subject: It's late, you know.
Jason, because music messes with my head.
I don't know if you win or lose.
So you get the terror of random lyric-y bits, with the typing so that they
don't turn out so disjointed, but it also means that you don't get
randomish humming along with it.
I can't vouch for quality, but . . . it's late.
[...actual lyrics elided...]
By the third stanza I can hardly read through the tears.
God damn that felt good to get out.
This is what I get for trying to make any sense out of anything at stupid:30 in the morning.
march 22nd, 2002, in the morewood practice rooms, falling completely, body and soul. more than two years ago, now. in hindsight the defining moment of practically my entire attitude towards interpersonal relationships. I panic because I want that again, I want more, and I want it now, and I don't have a clue where to look for it.