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作曲 : Cameron Smith |
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I know you don't want to talk, |
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but...I just hope you listen |
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I've seen more suitcases on your bed than times I've seen your bed made |
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Bad days and sad ways to reconnect |
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I can live without you by my side, |
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but I can’t live next to you showing neglect |
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I need a parental advisory sticker on my regrets |
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I need internal revival with dinner to find my vest |
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I need a maternal but fatherly figure to put a heart in my chest |
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I need bare rental of bodily fixtures to somehow feel the rest |
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I need poison in my lungs and in my heart |
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I need a staple gun with one bullet left |
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to pin my insecurities to the front of my chest |
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I need forgiveness |
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I need a miracle |
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I need the miracle we call "forgiveness" |
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I need a witness |
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I can't move back in my dad's house, |
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he has space for a vacant body |
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The lab's out and the results are down |
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The first failure of a forsaken robbery |
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stealing the currency we used to bring peace |
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Please, pray for the living |
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I'll handle the deceased |
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When a swan song is a wrong call, |
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block numbers and shock collars in a studio apartment by the locked cellars |
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Where every word is poison but the poison tastes like honey |
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and money is the exception to the words we cannot speak |
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It's a breach of betrayal, a renewal of pain |
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Stain after stain, |
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cut the nerve to the membrane and escape through the release |
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I need less of what I have and more of what I lack |
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I need to forgive myself so I can have my friends back |
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I need to move up, |
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I need to move down |
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The sound of my voice bouncing off the walls is always a letdown |
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So I set down the nightgown and hear the rain pound |
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The same sound on paved ground or bloodhounds making a runaround |
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Making the sun go around, making gravity hold me down |
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Demanding gravity's attention every time I feel down |
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So cut the nerve to the membrane |
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Chemically speaking, I pray to God when we can breathe in space |
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So the brave souls in grave cold can meet someday |
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And we can all escape |
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I need God to look less like me and more like God |
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I need to look less than me and more like God |
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And stop making photocopies of the same sheet music |
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and use it to reach a pulpit |
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To each a steeple of gold, |
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melt it down to a calf as I feel the pain in my calves |
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Spitting on the face of a man hanging on a tree |
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then begging on my knees to also bleed |
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So the grays that took place in my pain won't feel so foreign |
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even though it feels complete |
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I need to stop breathing quickly so I can breathe in deep |
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I need to wake up my heart but let my mind sleep |
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I need poison in my lungs and my heart |
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I need a staple gun with one bullet left |
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to pin my insecurities to the front of my chest |
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I need forgiveness:( |
| [02:39.11] |
I need a miracle:( |
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I need a miracle we call "forgiveness":( |
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I need a witness:( |
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I need sleep:( |
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