| Here’s a tale: When I was six
|
| And militantly innocent
|
| They didn’t think I’d handle it too well
|
| Turns out they were on the nose
|
| About a toddler’s mortal woes
|
| 'Cause all we do is decompose and smell
|
| Please give me time
|
| Nervous, still kinda nervous
|
| Still kinda nervous, still kinda scared to die
|
| Nervous, still kinda nervous
|
| Still kinda nervous
|
| Still kinda clinging to days gone by
|
| Must’ve cried a Waterpark
|
| And that’s just stabbing in the dark
|
| They gave up and they dropped me off at home
|
| It’s then I knew that on the Earth
|
| We’re disconnected after birth
|
| And handled my mortality alone
|
| Please give me space
|
| My sensibilities have been replaced
|
| With guilt and lack of grace
|
| I need more time
|
| My conscience is uniquely unaligned
|
| I am the bottom line
|
| What’s the worst that could happen?
|
| Playing thirty odd years, pretend
|
| I don’t wanna be angry
|
| I just wanna feel open again
|
| I don’t wanna be angry
|
| I just wanna feel open again
|
| I don’t wanna be angry
|
| But I’ll never feel open again |