lyrics
WHAT IS RIGHT AND WHAT IS LEFT
In my dreams, I always see you wandering on the rocks,
your glass hands eerie and frozen, and in those hands a box,
and in the box my beating heart, patient as grenades,
as the hopes of our defeated we filled up and blew away.
You can call me thoughtless.
From miles away, you whispered my name. You said I think this is yours.
And I said, no you keep it i have others. Yes. Keep it. I have more.
People mingle up until they can't be told apart,
and neither can tell where hopeless ends and where romantic starts.
You can call me thoughtless.
I am the skeptic, through and bred, I'd second-guess my death.
Any fool knows what's right is right, and then there's what is left.
That's Mister Thoughtless same to you, I've taken falls for love
and saw it midwife misery. Now I don't touch the stuff.
You can call me thoughtless.
I look around this room I see a cyst of chairs and dust
and winter hangs from the windows like x-rays of lungs
who cough an infestation of light that crawls all over us
and freights every last drop of dark to their queen inside the Sun
The ocean pitching waves to tide, their dugout in the sky.
If mother nature hits one home, it's us that rinse the knife.
That's what I call thoughtless.
Now that's what I call thoughtless.
DAS - Washington, D.C., USA
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