| If you knew I’d throw myself off this roof tonight
|
| Would you see my stain before it dries?
|
| Would you be able to recognize?
|
| And if you knew I’d tell God to take me far away
|
| Would you see me fly to outer space?
|
| Would you hear the bones in my body break?
|
| Would there still be 200 feet between the world and me?
|
| And the crows gather round
|
| So concerned now
|
| They stand on common ground
|
| And they won’t make a sound
|
| When I’m laid down
|
| Beneath this common ground
|
| Uncommon thoughts are feeling commonplace
|
| I’ve settled into unsettling mental spaces
|
| Tectonic emotions are shifting above the hell inside of me
|
| When I’m manic I feel like I’m a god
|
| Striking into Achilles with a chainsaw
|
| Been running on adrenaline just to catch a fucking break
|
| Mixing up anxiety with Ritalin
|
| Hoping if I press in I can impress
|
| You can’t see me but you can see Goya
|
| So I scrape my ego off reflections
|
| Keep it arm’s length cause of my paranoia
|
| Don’t I look pretty from far away?
|
| And the crows gather round
|
| So concerned now
|
| They stand on common ground
|
| And they won’t make a sound
|
| When I’m laid down
|
| Beneath this common ground |