minimalism

Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away

You have it all, had it all.
You pick it up, pack it in, throw it all away.
Write letters to your future self.
"It'll be so different when I get there."
But you're taking you along
and there's no difference in the shoes you're gonna wear.

Sailing the seas is no way to divide
yourself from a certain demise.
A rose is a rose is a rose,
no matter what port you call home.
You can try to run, but you'll never roam.

All your movements will be foder for the canon.
The pirates will load you in and fire at random.
They'll pry the soul from your tired eyes.
The world does not answer to what's between your thighs.

Drunk with wine the sailors sing
"How I long for land, and to see my lad"
Just because the melody is pretty
doesn't mean the song's not sad.

And my lifeboat won't bring me around tonight.
I'm sailing past your sinking ship.
All you be left with is the color of your skin.
It won't hold water, or keep you thin.

Drunk with wine the sailors sing
"How I long for home, and a lover to hold"
Just because the waves are calm
doesn't mean the water's not cold.

There were so many horizons I wanted you to see,
but you closed your eyes, and your back to me.
There were so many sunsets I wanted to share,
but I've left you now, gasping for air.