Our portraits were altered the other day.
You were painted black. I was painted stoned.
But that's just for history's purpose -
The ones who think we're too flawed to deserve this.
And I'm taking it on in some form of mental protest, tearing open my chest.
Whatever qualifies as rest.
I woke with a purpose today,
Brushed my teeth, grabbed a pen, and I ripped out a page
Of some old notebook paper. There was no name on the label.
And I sat there determined to write you this song,
Just to see how thing have been coming along from your view of the sight lines.
Often I have a hard time seeing a perspective that's not mine.
And I may be last in line, but just give me some time.
It's just this simple thing that's beyond our control
As we're trying to steer through these lives that we own.
It's the fork in the road. Change is all that we'll ever know.
But don't be scared because I'm your friend and we're only growing old.
You were painted black. I was painted stoned.
But that's just for history's purpose -
The ones who think we're too flawed to deserve this.
And I'm taking it on in some form of mental protest, tearing open my chest.
Whatever qualifies as rest.
I woke with a purpose today,
Brushed my teeth, grabbed a pen, and I ripped out a page
Of some old notebook paper. There was no name on the label.
And I sat there determined to write you this song,
Just to see how thing have been coming along from your view of the sight lines.
Often I have a hard time seeing a perspective that's not mine.
And I may be last in line, but just give me some time.
It's just this simple thing that's beyond our control
As we're trying to steer through these lives that we own.
It's the fork in the road. Change is all that we'll ever know.
But don't be scared because I'm your friend and we're only growing old.