I tend not to speak in these ways, but these times are designed
To remind me how blinded I made me.

I get cold chills, making monsters out of molehills
Maybe if I’m lucky, one day, they’ll grow gills
Then they could help me swim through this mess
That I made by trying to avoid this stress
I mean, it’s simple enough, but I’d rather let it die, yep
All the better for my mind to dissect
Keep myself company with all that is undone
A klutz’s guilt trip perpetual humdrum
Put the replay up on jumbotrons
title it the life of a chump goes on
And what I did wrong? Namely avoidance
Letting it all slip away, making a poison
Trying to commit instead I’m sliding in the mist
And that outstretched palm has since tightened to a fist
With a violence that could split even the strongest of bonds
So my punishment is eulogy, form of a song

Rip the stitches out, let the salt cascade
Filling up overripe red with a glass blade
Somehow the pain will make for an apology
Or at least an excuse to lose it all and weep
I’ve got holes, been filling them and yet they stay empty
Playing the break and entry plus the sentry
Confused, no matter which way I move, I lose
the paragon of zen when it’s time to choose
Let it be this or that, banish the gray
Cause I’m sick of playing outcomes, imagined away
Vanished today, tomorrow beckons with the same script
And the chump writing about it, that’s the lame twist
Busy playing chicken or egg while the farm dies
A self-fulfilling prophecy of self-inflicted hard times
Mark my words cause that’s all that I am now
And nothing ever worked quite the way I planned out