Falling Out of the Treehouse

The BSG

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A poem about breaking up with a childhood lover.

artist chicago spoken word poet minnesota duluth slam poetry bsg the bsg brandon st germaine

The BSG

Spoken word slam ego-poet with rap influences and Modest Mouse esque theology

The BSG is a 3 foot tall white Duluth Minnesotain kid with more mouth than a 3 foot tall white kid should have. Ego-poet, concept artist, spoken word influentialist, activist, and comedian, BSG tells it like it is.

Song Info

Genre

Podcasts • Poetry

Charts

Peak #86

Peak in subgenre #26

Author

BSG

Rights

Zentatsu

Uploaded

February 26, 2006

Track Files

MP3

MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 3:22

Story behind the song

I spent a long long time writing this piece in order to use it for breaking up with the girl.  Since then, this poem has won me several first places at poetry slams.  Amazing, how I still read this one with so much passion.

Lyrics

I touched myself 4 times today,
And not once did I think of you.

But I thought; Hey
Maybe we’re having a falling out,
Or maybe I’m falling out,
Or maybe–there wasn’t even a tree house to begin with?
We grew up in a tree house where we held down
Frank’s sister and told her she had to kiss the cutest boy.
So you kissed Jake and I broke your Barbie’s head off.

If this is the sort of poem a guy has to write
Just to break up with you.
Than maybe you need to realize that
You’re not exactly worth the words he’s wasted on you
The dictionaries he’s gone through
Looking for the perfect synonym for love
That you shove back at him because he
Still isn’t the cutest boy in the tree house.

And we are falling out
Because I have a secret for you:
I never wrote poetry because I loved you
It was because I didn’t
And I wanted to prove to myself
That I wasn’t just using you for the blowjobs

But I was.  And even then I wasn’t.
But whatever.  The important part
Is that slivers from poorly put together
Tree Houses still sting 12 years later.
And I’ll always be six years old.

They fairy tailed they were Pirates protecting you 
from Frank because little boys can’t kiss little girls
But pirates protecting princesses could.

Or snow-forts and snot-nose winters
With cheek kisses and we melted the snow
Around us with the heat from our breath
Avoiding Minnesota death
And I couldn’t ever go down the hill head first.
Your snowballs always hurt worst.

Love is so fucking simple at age 10,
When we could find a flower 
Found in the grass as the symbol of us
And that’s all we needed to stay alive.

So many others our age
Still live like that and it’s sick.
I’m sick of living like that.
We are only together because
No one could drive yet
And loving you from down the street made sense.
We’d meet at the tree house to Make-out;
And the whole time I was still secretly a pirate.

Close distanced relationships don’t work;
They slave drive.
Trying to stay alive because the ups and downs
Of this hill hell town is founded upon
How long I’m grounded
And that’s no way to love someone;
Between classes.

We took timeouts together only to talk about
How better we were than to have listened to the rules
And rebellion is the lonely heart’s charity.

I only like music I can be smarter than.
And you were the only tune they played
On cold Minnesota days when MTV
Wasn’t playing music and
You’re obviously getting sick of the cold
Sick of falling out of the tree house
Sick of the bruises and the broken bones and the wood ticks
And the splinters and the sand in your shoes and
You used me.  Use me until the snow melts away from the base beams.

Gas Prices shot up with our age, and wages 
Down with our stages of perpetual innocence.
50 cents change and nothing stays the same.

3 miles outside of town and the sound of
Your song long and ghostlike on the one working speaker
Takes me back to everything.

And the gas pedal closes distance
Between me and the white noise of lost FM reception.

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