I'm sweaty and i'm hopeful on a summer night
i read the news and shouldn't think that anything will be fine
the stripes on your shirt remind me of something long ago
maybe the pattern of the carpet of
an airport floor or... i don't know.
in the future our shoes will no longer give us blisters
and everyone will know the correct anatomy of the clitoris
whether or not we should get a new phony gadget
whether or not we will be forgiven for our sins.
and you know, being a person, it really fucks you up.
but something here feels right, i think we might both be alive.
i refuse to believe that big plans will work out
so i knock on every single wooden surface in town
it's the anxiety percussion symphony
it's a highly abstract piece of music.
I gotta gotta get to the bottom of this
find the prize in the fucking cereal box, it's hit or bliss
i'll fix this world, I'll make it right for us
I'll make nice people out of all those assholes.
you get a special kind of scar when you grow up in a zoo
where there's a different kind of elephant in every single room.
we fed the holy spirit with bread crumbs
and we watched it shit on all our things
sometimes i imagine the westboro baptist church picketing our funerals
and i hope no one else will.
and i am sitting on the corner of church and state avenue
i am balancing five cents on the tip of my shoe
there's a sign out in the yard with a clumsily painted dove
saying something heartfelt and generic about love
you know, being a person,
it really fucks you up.
but something here feels right
i think we might both be alive.
(you know being a person, it really fucks you up for life)
you know, being a person,
it really fucks you up.
but something here feels right
i think we might both be alive.
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