Part A: Every day I go a little bit longer baby
everyday I go a little bit harder without
every day I go a little bit longer without crying over you you

Part B: I read your letter on the first of April baby
I read your letter and it nearly made me crazy
I read your letter on the first of April and I cried over you

Part C + D: One of these days you’re gonna be great you're gonna be saved you’re gonna behave
one of these days you’re gonna be great you’re gonna be saved you’re gonna behave
one of these days you’re gonna be great you’re gonna be saved you’re gonna behave
crying over you.

I’ll never settle for less
than full blown distress it seems I'm blessed to conjure mess after glorious mess
but no more
will I stand at the door inviting more pain to dirty my floor 

I just cleaned this shit
fuck it, i’m over it
jk lol I’m not I’m drowning but fake till you make it
but how does one “make” feelings?
How do you fabricate the closure and effects of healing?

I lack the tools in my box
I’m trying to run my race with untied laces and some lead filled socks
So I’ll retreat in my cave
Till I learn how to behave in ways that make it not turn out this way

wait a minute star child, don’t be so lugubrious,
there’s life beyond a stinging diss
just think of all the love you’ll miss
Every chance at romance is a dance upon a precipice
a blissful view until you slip
and free-fall with no chute equipped

So what? Are you gonna die from metaphoric falls?
or a wallop to your metaphoric balls?
Your limit you can set it! Only breaks you if you let it!
Life’s a fat and mangy pussycat and you’ll regret if you don’t pet it

that’s probably true, I guess it all depends the colour lens you’re looking through
rosy posy victories or only just the black and blue
your perspective is choice -  no one else is gonna raise your voice
 
CHORUS

I’ve arrived I’m here, everything’s so clear
I’m amazed at the pace that you can run and get shit done when you don’t run with fear

Thought my internal compass was dyspraxic
Hell no!
Turns out volume of my conscience was turned
down low

You see my life was just cauldron of worry
(Bitch, you were stirrin' it)
never gave myself an unbiased jury
(You Gary Sterling’d it)

NowIi’m my own best friend, never hating on myself again

But what about the boy?
Be specific, you mean whats-his-face?
I hope he’s rockin with his cock out in a better place
I can’t blame him for vacating when I was always wary
fighting to convince me his love was more than temporary

Understandably that’s heavy shit to navigate
teaching me to love myself - man how the fuck you s’posed to date?
(It can’t be done!)
Well, it can, but it ain’t that fun
like trying to sing your sappy love song while your choking on a loaded gun

meaning it sucks, but I wish him luck
cause now I’m dancing in pyjamas with my cats like I don’t give a fuck

K  I do, but not about the things that make me blue
you have to manifest the life you want to come to you

(Easy Rhonda Byrne)

Hey why fight? Maybe the hippies got it right!
Or would you rather lay in shackles of your own design, awake at night
preparing for the worst
(like book your hurst and get it over with)
hey! death ain’t funny honey but I get your gist, no sense in pissss-
ing time away, gotta seize each day
give ourselves some credit
cause we are on our way.