I’m gonna spend the rest of my life telling this story ain’t I?
Where’s my stability asked the man actively driving himself into a ditch
Am I crazy or is the world really organized this way?
Sometimes it’s hard to know precisely who you really are

Play your own music for the end of episode montage you run out in your head
Show what you’re doing / show what she’s doing / show what we’re doing
They are both deep in thought wondering “what if”
So roll the end credits, don’t forget to thank the dolly grip

Change your name / Cut off your hair / but stick to the plan
I know there’s no guarantees, even Bob Dylan lost his dream girl
This is our story / this is how we go here
You can put your hands on the brick and inhale slowly and ask yourself
Who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?

Nostalgia flooded the room like milk poured over religious figurines
I didn’t share this simile with my therapist worried she’d get worried and write something down
But then again who’s to say anyone can say something + alter the timeline
I’m just sick of pretending
That I don’t believe what I believe

We know the dangers of one person using another person as a muse
But surely there can’t be nothing wrong if it goes both ways
Like lightning bolts bouncing between two consciousnesses trapped in jars
I called it “Dual Muses” and walked down to the corner store

Rock n Roll improved my chemistry
And prog rock got me out of bed
And punk rock made me hate the government
Then heavy metal became my friend
And R n B let me dance with you
And Zydeco seemed like a strange dream
And hip hop made me trust the universe
And psych rock pushed me past the point
But the one thing they all taught me is…

I’m you
Don’t freak out
I’m you