Entry level empathy with nursing home intensity
Sound asleep but able bodied; tawdry effort, awful hobbies
I am every bit as bristling with bitterness as I was
I just try to take it down a notch
To not treat details as entrails, rancid as the landfills
On a mid-atlantic afternoon my fears are finally coming true
That I'm somewhere between solipsist and utterly anonymous
And the ground is just as bottomless as the sprawling sky is infinite
I will smile and nod pretending I don't speak the language
I could, but my accent isn't very good
There's a lithe young thing and it's calling to me
And I wipe the sweat from my palms on my jeans
As I approach, it bares its teeth
Says "I am the things you'll never be"
There's a lithe young thing and it's calling to me
And I lock the door and get under the sheets
As I lean in close, it sinks its teeth
Says "I am the things you'll never be"
"What you are, I know
Where you've been, I followed"
Meaningless decisions with circuit board precision
A prim and proper piston in an old, unoiled engine
I could be on the precipice or way down looking up at it
It seems more like coincidence the longer I look
And think I feel my fingertips brush up against some evidence
Of any indication I am close
To what I feel I'm owed
When I hear my conscious groan
"What you are, I know
Where you've been, I followed"