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I've Got Some Bad Ideas and a Terrible Hill to Die on
How could I exist like this?
Get out of my head and on your knees
For another way to worship
Don’t wait on me, I haven't conquered anything yet
My times a soldier with a leaking social battery
but I've got more danger in the clip than in Chernobyl
And a terrible hill to die on
If this is how duty calls,
Than I don't wanna be noble
I wanna be something you can't live without
Oh, but I’m just a scribble in a page of your autobiography
But I know I’d be the whole damn table of contents
But if I already saw the 3-D movie
Why would I care what the book is about?
How could you exist like this?
Am I something you can't live without?
If our friendship was the town,
I’d be flood and you’d be the devastating drought
You're like the people with split personalities
Each one takes a position on the jury
Where they point the finger at anyone but themselves
And wait for an apology
My restless mind syndrome
Keeps calling and stalling for the toxins to invade
I only hear what I wanna hear
Were my ears produced?
They seem homemade
A lone wolf in sheep's clothing
But it takes two to tango with blame
And I know who you'd have your arms around
When the shame sets in and i’m reduced to a short line from your autobiography
But you're my whole acknowledgments page
You left me waiting for a fleeting answer for years
Is it a hard truth we refuse to hear or is it building suspense?
Does it overcome you with repentance or paralyze your mouth with fear?
The question isn't how did I exist without it
It's how did I exist with it at all?
I might be the final nail hit in your coffin
but you’re just an unpublished table of contents
Every groove in my brain likes to move forward at the quickest rate
While you’re waving to me, fading away in retrograde
But it’s too destructive and counter productive
And it lead me right back to the same hill I chose not to die on
I should've known from the way you saw right through me
That this reliance was just a con
And I hate to spoil the ending
But this sixth sense tells me I’ve been seen through the whole time
and you’re just pretending
A lone wolf in sheep's clothing
with the bite of a great white
You’re a drooling dog with desperate eyes I shouldn’t pet
A house engulfed in flames that I haven’t retreated from yet
Everything I ever created rests inside
But I can’t be a hero in my own story and not end up alive
And to be crystal clear,
This is something I can live without
But the question isn’t whether I can or cannot,
It’s will I fight to keep it alive or will I let it degrade into an afterthought?
Copyright ©
Matthew Bailey
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