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lyrics

Feigning independence,
caught a train, ignored your message,
rode from Quincy to Alewife and back again.
You’re my anti-depressant,
my coffee, my cig, and the headache
I get when I act like I don’t need them.
Sometimes I wish I saw myself
from your point of view.
But then,
if you called it quits, said go fuck yourself,
I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to blame you.

When we first met,
I was sleeping through high school,
a creature of impulse, fueled by desire.
My hair covered my eyes
to disguise my gaze on the past tense.
The past tense had swept in and out
of my decision-making process,
each mistake a consequence of that.
You were so bold to speak to my potential,
and I’ve been so behind on paying it back.

Are you bored of sorting through my baggage?
And when I’m inevitably tied to the tracks
of my own train of thought,
will you cut the rope or turn your back to me?

Cultivated codependence,
called your phone, left you a message,
and you showed up at my apartment again.
You said “I hate when you play helpless,”
wrapped your arms around my neck and said
“I wish I saw what happens in your head.”
You see, the fear is getting comfortable
and losing my control over all my annoying habits,
my tendency to panic over
every tiny detail and the space that each inhabits.
I’m exhausted by the subject.

Are you bored of sorting through my baggage?
And when I’m inevitably tied to the tracks
of my own train of thought,
will you cut the rope or turn your back to me?
Are you bored of dealing with my bullshit?
If I’m honest, I’ve been so stagnant.
Barely functioning,
so afraid you’ll find someone better and leave.

She said “Is that what you think of me?”
She said “Is that what you think of me?”
She said “Is that what you think of me?
Is that what you think of me?
Is that what you think of me?
Is that what you think of me?
Is that what you think?”

credits

from It Could Be Worse​.​.​. And It Is, released June 26, 2017

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The Fairview Boston, Massachusetts

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