If White Men Can't Jump, Then Why Is My Head Always In the Clouds?

I always said expectations will be the death of both of us I made this bed and now I'm lying in it But I was lying when I said the nails were gone, cause they aren't Now the bloods running and where you're sleeping just looks like a ritual gone wrong And I could write a novel of indecencies you've taught me But no one lives to an age to read something that long At your roots, you have me to thank Robin Hood might have put the arrow through the apple, But the tree put the apple in his hands When I start admitting, Your gears start turning like the guts of a clock Your stares in silence drop a bomb on my mindful city so you might be ticking and counting down until I go away, But even a broken clock is right twice a day But you seem like you're ready for me to go I hope that funeral in your head that plays for me every time you text me back Is enough complacency to keep us attached in the meantime But I'm sure you know the dress code! Perfect for your soul cause it's already dressed in black You might be the one with a medal around your neck, But I already won the trophy months before we even met Let's forget the change in atmosphere Let's make this cunning crisis Into more of a road bump and less of a mountain Besides, my ropes are starting to give out And feet are starting to slip And rushing water from your fountain of youth Is the only liquid remedy I would sip Your earth is hiding weapons! This icicle cascading over me is just a knife that's unassuming if it drips You're a shiny new thing But with too many miles You're such a virtuoso at filling my tank But with what fuel? You're in the garage of mechanic But you can't find a tool? I held this intervention like I’d hold a dying bird You’ve seen the death row-ers of a prison But you still think this was cruel?