On self-improvement We spent no longer than a day Gathering up the things we never use And no fewer than three weeks letting it go Things we no longer need That used to mean everything
On self-reliance We set our alarm to sound first-thing when the sun rose Placed it all the way across the room (the necessity of progress) But by the time it was hung high into the day We couldn’t hear a thing so far away So in our beds we stayed And woke up late
On naiveté I thought you’d stay
On keeping distance We concede It relents We kept secrets
On honesty I asked if it wasn’t so much worse idling unknowingly In honesty, not really
On solidarity Pictures I thought I’d put away in a drawer to keep them safe But I looked every single place Even those where they’d never have been saved They were in the drawer the entire time Just didn’t see it right away
On perseverance We couldn’t grow But we planted anyway
On predilection Every time I drove past your window I still, each time, passed it by
On reservation “How can you tell me that everything will work out?” There is no sort of source for this sort of thing Measuring our strengths by the way we turned out limited