| Talk about something new
|
| I’m goddamn desperate
|
| I’m fucking begging you
|
| In a test of recorded afternoons, you’ve changed
|
| To an «A» for effort beside the city train
|
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head
|
| Behold a glimpse of the nights you’re guarding
|
| And holding back
|
| There’s a panic button to start the heart attack
|
| It’s the «new you» per your suggestion
|
| Mostly sad instead
|
| Inner monologue ingestion
|
| Curse it off again
|
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head
|
| A conversation forced into becoming such a chore
|
| Appearing cold and careless
|
| To keep me on the up and out
|
| Since I’ve been writing books you’ve sewn the binding
|
| An obligation stitched between careers
|
| But you’ve been seaming like a stranger
|
| I could try for the sake of trying
|
| You could try to say I’m wrong
|
| Or we could fail at the hands of us failing
|
| I can rarely bite my tongue for too long
|
| You heard it’s better left unspoken
|
| And you heard it’s better left alone
|
| But what the hell do you know?
|
| I know how we get, we get distracted
|
| And I know how you are
|
| A single shot of whiskey, toast the battle scars
|
| I know it’s a common cause for thicker skin
|
| I know the mourning stage is over, I know I’m right again
|
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head
|
| A conversation forced into becoming such a chore
|
| Appearing cold and careless
|
| To keep me on the up and out
|
| Since I’ve been writing books you’ve sewn the binding
|
| An obligation stitched between careers
|
| But you’re still seaming like a stranger
|
| You keep on seeming like a stranger |