yeah, i feel fundamentally dishonest like the saint who i'm supposed to be but who am i to judge that? like i know every possible reality i'm not trying to get too deep i'm just struggling inside of my skin
if i could speak clearly can i say everything that's meant to be everything that's worth hearing i just want to matter if that makes any sense at all not to be in the history books but to make a heart feel warmer inside
like the fire that makes you breathe clearer like the tea that heals your throat at night when i can't be there when i feel guilty when i feel nothing
not to be heavy-handed but i want you to understand that i'm of two minds about this that i am trying to make sense
i try to see the other side of it when you tell me you need me now and i say i can't make it yet yeah, i still feel a part of it like a part of the problem
if i want it, then i'll make it happen he told me when i saw you it made me happy when i met you it made me better