I get nervous in dreams,
men singing on window sills, cats talking to me,
I wake with strange beliefs.
Like a myth, at the bottom of the ocean,
it’s a fool’s swim,
I am seasick from the notion.
There’s a truth in the back of my head,
I reach for it, it goes to bed.
Maybe I’m a liar trying to be righteous.
Maybe I don’t believe in peace and quiet.
You are a saint, I work to make you crack,
to forgive myself for all I lack.
Like patience I bury by trees,
it’s quiet and slow but it grows beside me.
When I’m done being stubborn and paranoid,
will you take me back, will you fill the void?
Maybe I’m a liar trying to be righteous.
Maybe I don’t believe in peace and quiet.
What’s all the fear of a good life made?
It’s so easy to give, it’s so hard to take.
One day I might ask you to move a thousand miles,
to face another sea, to feel the difference of a leave.
But we’ll save it for one day, on a shelf of somedays,
lined with the china, we’ll take it all down in time celebrate.
Maybe I’m a liar trying to be righteous.
Maybe I don’t believe in peace and quiet.
Maybe you can make me start to like it.