so the rest of it is history
but history repeats itself
and i never want to be again where i am now
so i’m writing down this story
for myself to remember
how the curtain fell before i took my bow
and now my eyes aren’t good enough
for you to lay yours upon
and i close them so they won’t have to see
how the needle returns to the start of the same song
i’ve been singing ever since you came to love me
now selfishness comes in dimensions
yours is so different from mine
a youth’s dirt is the truth hurts, the first one’s the worst
and you want me to go back to my roots
but i think i’ll decline
my mother is reminding me
of these previous misadventures
while i’m letting in the new man’s butterflies
these floaty things have now replaced
the empty, angry igloo
they’ve landed on it, kissed it ‘til you died
craving lust and love
aren’t so easy to define
and still i am making a mess
history classes are wasted on me
the teacher is my lover
and so i’ll never pass the test
my fingers are bleeding from abusing my guitar
no, the glue is the reason for my tears
and as i sit in front of you, learning your teachings
i'm wishing for what the silence clears
