A GIDDY THING

In a town of small talk, Cicada summers, holidays in the park, coffee every morning in a blue-lit room like every other day.

Counting up the small hours, all repeating, clocking in and out. Television evening in the blue-lit room like any other night.

There's a slow emergency; I can hear the alarm bell ringing. There's a slow emergency; I can hear the bell in the dark.

I'm broke but I'm happy, I'm poor but I'm kind, I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah. I'm high but I'm grounded, I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed, I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby.

What it all comes down to is that everything's going to be fine, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five.

I feel drunk but I'm sober, I'm young and I'm underpaid, I'm tired but I'm working. I care but I'm restless, I'm here but I'm really gone, I'm wrong and I'm sorry.

What it all comes down to is that everything's going to be quite alright, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is flicking a cigarette. What it all comes down to is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving the peace sign.

I'm free but I'm focused, I'm green but I'm wise, I'm hard but I'm friendly. I'm sad but I'm laughing, I'm brave but I'm chickenshit, I'm sick but I'm pretty.

Visions of better times, kingdoms and lilac wine. Why did God fail to improve us? Tear drops of acid rain burning down through my veins. Can't I just sleep for a night?

Despite my fears my fears, I dance for you, even while others knew. When can one wake and live again? I'm desperate.