there are no saints there are no sinners there is no tune for your song to sing it's tired old thing again and i could never sing anyway and i couldn't read your writing in the letters you sent every week like clockwork it's not magic that you're feeling but delusion i never could sing your song dear and there's no song without a singer and we live in worlds with no winners so surrender your tender young feelings before they eat you up for dinner

i'm like a ship with a mast but no rudder and there's this map upon my back you think i drift but i'm just sailing the wind is good enough for some of us and this is a voyage like nothing

nothing
like nothing
like nothing i've
ever known

do i scare you when i speak like this it's ok, it's just a heavy orb some selfish moon with ideas upon my life makes me feel like laughing, lying and crying makes my back itch with lines of living the map is my course in the giving life lines mapped times drawing conclusions and course corrections of misgivings and compass marks without me even really thinking so yeah i probably scare you but this is nothing

nothing
like nothing
i've ever known




every sucker has to pay their passage in this world.

xam o-›