Lyrics

My history's repeating itself, it seems Or is it just me sifting through the seams? Do I have the wherewithal to separate them My reality and my dreams? All the allergies are adding to this disease So insensitive to salt my wounded knees It's hard to speak and take control when All I really want to do is stop and cease It's not the most, but it's close And it's all I've got This may not be my place, I've been granted The grace of your god Every alternate route and shortcut screams Of your optimistic dreamer's dreams Every road leads to nowhere Every road leads to somewhere Everything's as it seems I'm separating myself from the fat and lean Trying to fit into the middle of that whole scene Analyzing everything just complicates the procedure Siphon from the stream It's not the most, it's the least But it's all I see It's my best guess the end Don't justify the means I like everything that I can taste and see Like the feel of discomfort and luxury Living through the death of a moment Just gives to me My thoughts can be so anorexic and obscene Pathologically lethargic and so in need A dysenteric, diuretic stream of Incoherent philosophy It's not the most, but it's close And it's all I've got A shot in the dark, scattershot And it's my own lot