"Whatever it might look like, or however long it takes,
each of us needs to reconstruct a pattern of meaning that is all our own."
are you tempted to believe
that you don’t have a choice
you’ve been screaming off your head
and now you’ve lost your voice
that you inherited the curse
and everything your daddy said
compounding like a chorus
or the interest on your debt
and it’s not funny
how momentum can tell a lie
to your face
and before you know it
there’s a bet on every horse in the race
and sunk costs are loading up your gun
it wasn’t wasted time
not a wasted dime or a tear
it’s such a sweet relief
such a good, good grief to get here
no hills on which to die
no reason and no rhyme
just chaos coming down
and the meaning we assign
and that’s not nothing
oh it’s kind of everything
it’s the scars that i can finger
it’s a song that i can sing
it’s the way her hair falls around her face
for every season there’s a burning sun
breaking through
it puts the shadows underneath your feet
if you move
to the rhythm of its crashing love