I'm wondering where's my place in this
On balance beams I'm diggin' it
I'm wondering where's your evidence
On balance beams, I'm day-trippin'
What is it, living?
What is it?

Way up there
Conversations about the weather

I paint my face around nothing
Hazy Sunday, I'm diggin' it
Fade away, were you something
You're hearing things, is that nothing?
What is it, living?
What is it?

Way up there
Conversations about the weather

Bring me closer to the weakness
I can taste every altered state with a tongue that can filter the surplus
In every in there is an out, a clever cloak a new amount, keeping mum while speaking out, but no
And he meant to deter every way, all attempts to determine the access codes
He's reigning in he's walkabout, excusing me from talking out, but no
There's a chance that we'll ask for a day to recording aches from the give and the take
In the end we will find it's a flex of the wings, and we'll learn that we never get a break

I can't interpret your words on this
I can't intercept your thoughts on this
I can't disconnect my thought magnet
Can I make pretend I have words for it?

Bring me closer to the weakness now
That i have known for too long to confuse it with another

Hey babe, don't bite my cheeks, that hurts
I'm just saying hey babe that hurts
This coin's got two sides, yeah what's worse
Hey babe don't bite my cheeks that hurts

I could say that i, I'll give another try
I'll last another day
Just to keep this ramshackle contraption of a love alive
Can't cull what should not survive
It's killing me, i realize
But, otherwise it's

Hey babe don't bite my cheeks that hurts
Hey babe bite my cheeks, yeah, that hurts

Okay, Siri, please help me understand something:

How is it that seven out of ten times I see a car parked in a fire lane, or in an otherwise restricted area clearly indicated by some sort of sign or coloration of an adjacent curb, it is a particularly expensive but entirely impractical car that can only feasibly serve as some kind of vanity statement by the owner of said car because such vehicles are so fucking extra that even the most elite of classes cannot escape the fact that these vehicles are not fast enough to be muscle cars, nor are they capable of hauling anything the way one would with a fucking truck or something.

It displays self-awareness, that should lead to empathy for your fellow humans, but has instead manifested in contempt, and the desire to gloat, and no amount of performative solidarity can change that kind of a track record.

It's a shiny middle finger that brings them to the restaurant to where they spit on the staff, and tip poorly. It's a reminder that they have, and you have not.

Oh look, he's getting out. Holy shit. It's Ted Wheeler.

Way up there
Conversations about the weather

I get bored with nothing
Yet someday, I'm nothing