i had waited patiently
made some moves real quietly
watched helplessly as, on its own,
it became poetry.
i had never liked this story, 'cause it never ends quite perfectly,
and as much as i want to spit it furiously, it's better that i don't.
there is one tiny place that i keep you in, and i use it to get warm.
oh, my loneliness is a dream!
my room arrives, inside a floating box
that follows the sunset wherever it goes,
and in it, i tell you anything.
i have morphed painstakingly
there is nothing left of me
yeah i think that habits are everything,
and bad habits plant you like a seed.
i have always liked this place, 'cause i know we all need our space
but i can't move through yours anyway. so keep it and keep on your way.
there is one tiny place that i keep you in, and i use it to get warm.
oh, my loneliness is a dream!
my room arrives, inside a floating box
that follows the sunset wherever it goes,
and in it, i tell you anything
but i didn't tell you anything,
no, i didn't tell you anything.
and to the pretty girl who doesn't know me anymore:
i am much better now that i didn't.