Scribble
I wanted to suspend my disbelief
And I wanted to embrace her untouchable friends
But I ended up slamming my face on the sink
Hoping somehow maybe I could change
And everyone left the party, nobody wants to see that shit
The weekends are made for numbness, not your acute perceptions
That's not cute, she said
My grandfather sang and he drank Hank Williams
And he smoked cartons and cartons of Salems
But he never got fed up with life
No, he was just struck down
The dignified ascend easily but a dozen strokes
Put a web of scars on his brain
It hurts to watch a flower unfold and see the colors stripped away
And see them milked and spilled but that's not what he'd have said
I used to be an armchair Columbus
Connecting the dots on my television screen
I explored the world from a single fixed point
A lonely conductor of my own potential energy
But now when I'm happy, I savor sorrow
I throw temper tantrums and I bust a move
Inferiority ain't my passion, but it sure makes a clever excuse
Yes, I know it's a lame excuse
But I thought if I don't choose and I don't move, maybe I won't lose
My father is a human heart specialist
But I'm just a heartworm that infests and infects
My mother is a raging perfectionist
But I just mutter with my tongue
What I've scribbled with my wrist
I'm a broken record, that's what everyone says
Can't somebody shut him up?
You've never been in love, boy, you've just been laid
You romanticize yourself and it's just not good enough