you must’ve learned to speak your name
before you learned to breathe
but the same blood that runs inside you
runs in me
the cadillac of grand cliches
an echoing from older days
you left the windows open for the storm
and it’s like a summertime disease
this california wine in me
it leaves me high and standing right there where i was
but i’m way too comfortable to leave
got nothing but jokers up my sleeve
and the sand in my shoes keeps me on the ground
i’ve learned not to expect anything too profound
the camera’s wide, it never ends
it follows you around the bend
i feel safer knowing that i can be seen
i pick apart my daydreams
and i leave them by your door
there’s no reward, but i still do it all the same
shotgunning beers out in the yard
trying to find ways to close your heart
to cut the scene, get off the set, to break for lunch
but you’ve got this impulse to remain
hovering and waiting in the doorway
decoding symbols that have been left just for you
who else could understand these things except for you?
i was poised, and i was a long shot
i couldn’t keep my young mouth shut
but now i swallow my words
before i even know what they are
i left you messages for weeks
now i’ve forgotten how to speak
but i don’t need to talk, i’m out here just for one
stand at the centre while it breaks
and listen to the sound the world makes
all the witnesses get nervous on the stand
the spirit cracks under the weight of these demands
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