[Verse 1]
She wrote the world off in cursive, cursing under her breath “this thing isn’t worth it”/ pursing her lips and the buzz isn’t working/ buzz words lighting up the wrong part of her brain on purpose/ arguing about the argument that life is/ lying in between these vices like vice grips/ love is a gripping sentiment that’s similar to sediment/ broken pieces of a greater whole/ that glues together more complex than it was before/ it’s been walked on by giants like Abbey Road/ but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming anymore/ …anymore/ reduced to a simple formula by the media/ but this is more in line with string theory/ I spoke the loudest and the clearest of any time in my life, though at the podium I swear they didn’t hear me/ So I put the mic down and that doesn’t make a nice sound/ akin to thumping your head on the wall with the lights out/ so it’s lights out… but that’s more dangerous/ we told the coolest kid in the room he couldn’t hang with us/ for fear of losing our control, no angel dust/ Mad at the way that the artist painted us/ with no regard to what the man had observed/ I’m a fan of your work, though I know I never met you/ we found our place of worship at the heart of our bedroom/ how we clear our minds when we need some more headroom/ how to lose ourselves from the notion we’ll be dead soon/ I used to think that forever was a myth, but I found out soon I was dead wrong/ forever is the starting place of a long race, the destination becomes clear when you’re no longer headstrong//
[Verse 2]
It’s all a process. We work towards progress, or just make nonsense/ don’t forget what it’s like to make love. There’s a reason why the wording of the phrase is to fuck up/ it’s fun to make believe that it’s always butterflies and sweet words/ disregarding that this takes work/ just forgetting that this might hurt/ and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing/ most of us can’t read the smoke rings… til it’s too late/ meet the true one until you meet two fakes/ Get impatient for results and you can’t wait/ so you tempt fate and dive into your worst mistakes/ the greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince me that I was him/and that I can’t win/ though I mess up and I’m not perfect. I’m not the only one here swervin’/ I still try to play dream merchant/ I still say that this thing’s worth it, though it might not last/ the beauty of love is its complexity, every kind is forged differently, but it’s all stained glass/ In the church of our home, hope the walls last/ if the spirit can remain in my dome, I will always treat hope like a tall glass/… drink it up/ and find that perfect place where you only think enough //