fuck yeah bright eyes!

for everyone who appreciates bright eyes. i think we could all use a little more conor in our lives :)
Bright Eyes

—White Christmas

lava-is-soft:

Bright Eyes - White Christmas

lava-is-soft:

One time in middle school I made this Conor Oberst block print. #moving #oldfinds #sharpthingsinartclassYAY #conoroberst #brighteyes #desaparecidos

lava-is-soft:

One time in middle school I made this Conor Oberst block print. #moving #oldfinds #sharpthingsinartclassYAY #conoroberst #brighteyes #desaparecidos

a-little:

I decided to finally draw this stranger. He and his music mean more to me than almost anyone I know. I can’t believe I first heard Bowl Of Oranges when I was 13. I feel so old. I’ve seen his face in person, and every time it was just so pained. Or drunk. So I felt like this portrait of him, with his eyes close and his brow relaxed, was appropriate for my appreciation. “You’re still one of my kind.”

a-little:

I decided to finally draw this stranger. He and his music mean more to me than almost anyone I know. I can’t believe I first heard Bowl Of Oranges when I was 13. I feel so old. I’ve seen his face in person, and every time it was just so pained. Or drunk. So I felt like this portrait of him, with his eyes close and his brow relaxed, was appropriate for my appreciation. “You’re still one of my kind.”

(via cthulhubandit)

aphroditea:

do you ever listen to a song and feel this deep inconsolable sadness that makes your chest physically ache but yet it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world

did you mean bright eyes

(Source: arwenevenstar, via wewillbecomesilhouttes)

Bright Eyes

—The Calendar Hung Itself

pony-slaystation:

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning
when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly
from the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes
looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you?
Oh, does he know that place below your neck
that is your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences, like
“I love you far too much!”

Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worry that you smoke too many cigarettes?
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile, there’s a thousand more
you won’t ever see, but must hold inside yourself eternally.

Well, I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper, “Here is where you rest.”
I was determined in Chicago, but I dug my teeth into my knees, and
I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine,

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

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.
In a story told, she was a little girl, in a red-rouge sun-bruised field, and
there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed, and
it rose like thunder clapped under our hands, and
it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end where I wrote,

“You make me happy! Oh, when skies are gray.”

Well, the clock’s heart, it hangs inside its open chest
with hands stretched toward the calendar hanging itself,
but I will not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who’ve left, there’s a few that stayed, and
they found me here, and pulled me from the grass

where I was laid.

(Source: medical-mids, via imwideawakeitsmornin)

connyxoberst:

here take a full concert of conor’s solo tour stop in hamburg from january 29th because i love you all 

(via fashionedofstone)