I struggle with a lot
I make a joke about how normally it's all cleaned up, you laugh a bunch
Not at the joke I made, the same line that everyone tells
With a poker face in exactly the same damn way
Brushing off my feeble attempt to impress, you hand me a smile
Drag your fingers across my chest as you enter the mess
Drinks are offered, we all explore the nest
Sizing up my sanity through pictures and stitches and fragments I collect
But I can't help but think 1000 years down the line
What would archaeologists glean from the fragments of my life?
Walking around the open tomb of number 214-57-07 Gaston Avenue
Grand gestures as they pry open the entrance
I wish I could be there so I could explain about the messiness
And leave them breathless with this postcard, the missing message
Wish you were here in this year so we could trade records
What would scientists see of my nightmares and dreams?
What would they decipher from my most private of things?
My little bedside boxes
My little notes and thoughts jotted on scraps, receipts, and co*ktail napkins
Would it all add up? Would they think I'm a king?
Or see the truth behind the youth who's too nervous to kiss the queen?
Am I as dumb as I think or am I too hard on myself?
Maybe just in case I should put a crown on my shelf
I realize how long I've been hiding inside the kitchen
Too nervous to be face to face with you without enough jokes pre-written
I know you get it, you see through my steady hand
I turn to see you leaning by the oven wearing a face that understands
We share a stretch of silence, my hands strangle sweaty drinks
Your eyes are penetrating, I wanna dive inside the kitchen sink
I need a stiffer drink, I take a swig and think
My brain's a broken gla**, sh**, I can't remember anything
You laugh again holding out your hand I realize
I'm still holding all the drinks hostage, damn
I'm still holding hostage, damn
Our world is falling to pieces, I'm calm and I'm screaming
Another step closer, I'll jump, this time I mean it
Heavy breathing as the radio does the talking
Carrying on a nice conversation with cubes of ice clinking
We say nothing, strangely comfortable, amused by something
"It's alright" you say, and then you touch me
Right there, on the side of my face
The softest song, the smoothest lake, it's such a beautiful shape
For history's sake, I hope a volcano erupts and covers the city in ash
Preserving us in powder, leaving the exact moment intact
Forever steadfast, shaped in stone, men of wax
What will they think of us after 1000 years pa**?
How will they judge us? The clothes, the bodies, the drinks
What will they deduce from those who're seduced by kitchen sink?
And what will it mean to them so far down the line?
How calm she made me feel in this embarra**ing time
What will they glean from this? This mummified still-life
That I could k** my friend to keep this girl's hand wrapped in mine