Every time a guy writes a song, he's a cowboy, a sailor
Playing with the world in his palm like the first pioneer.
Every time he opens his mouth, it's a loud movie trailer
Clipping every image and sound he thinks proves he was here.
A hand, a spike, a physical fight,
A flash of light, a curtain,
A toll, a tithe, the passage of time,
A height, a dive, a burden,
A girl, a night, a typical type,
A siren in the water,
A scroll, a nod, a message from God,
A son, a Holy Father.
Every time a guy writes a song, he's a sailor, a cowboy
Holding out the world in his palm like he made it himself.
Every time I open my mouth, I think, "Wow, what a loud noise!"
Still on the soapbox, just hoping I seem underwhelmed.
The hand, the pen, the writing again,
The Wind around the Willow,
The felt, the ice, the passage of time,
The melting down the window,
The ânowâ, the âthenâ, the thinking of "when",
The bottle in the ocean,
The strike, the pause, the message from -
God forbid she shows emotion.
This isn't rage, it's worth a mention.
This is a fake internal tension.
Sometimes, I spread out one opinion
And stand on its back to gauge attention.
This isn't rage, it's too specific.
I like to hate symbolic limits.
This is no statement, I'm complicit.
This is a dream, GOD put me in it.
A hand, a spike, a physical fight,
The Wind around the Willow,
A toll, a tithe, the passage of time,
The melting down the window,
The now, the then, the thinking of "when",
The siren in the water,
The strike, the pause, a message from God.
Does that make me His daughter?
A hand, a shove, a valley, a jump,
A score under the wire,
Just sweep me up, just sweep me up
And take me somewhere higher,
Just sweep me up, just sweep me up
And take me somewhere higher,
Just sweep me up, just sweep me up
And take me somewhere higher.
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