Lyrics:

I've thought about it a lot
while runnin these streets
Under the sun with its friendly heat
I shout it to myself the loudest,

How I could go on without it.
Become fictional, that mystical memory
Guidin peeps to righteous feats
without consumin the earth.

How I can never find the way to a happy her
that makes a happy peter.
Cause dapper with a bunch of friendly clappers
I got em all imagining it.

I'm the least convinced that I am the shit.

Guidin my mouth to incompetent curses,
All my imagination ever does is worsen the moment,
Make it apocalypse in teeny captured screens.

I'm dashin to the end with my intelligent yearnin
That's really just burnin through all these very nice people who just want the best for me,
but I'm a man of standards.

Don't quite know what they are.

I'm suspicious that these flights of giddy make me kiddy to some eyes that hastily embrace a scene.

Why does no one ever ask what I mean?
I try to put a question in you mind,
But everyone just keeps it there.

It's not that I can't bear you.
It's that I can't bear anyone, really.

***

Could it really be the end, Number Ten,
will you dance with me?
Could it really be the end, Number Ten,
we’ll just wait and see,
and if it really is the end,
I guess I’ll throw a big party,
and, all the boys and all the girls can come out,
and play with me.
A friendly game of hide-and-seek,
that could, easily last for weeks, and just,
when you think it’s peaked, you’ll forget to pour yourself
another drink.
You’ll be happy. You’ll be happy.
You’ll be happy, at my party

***

but tell a brother what's really gonna change it,
Make others seek some strangeness.
I've tried findin the right thing to say,
I've tried making myself more normal,
but the portal to the mortal fixes normals with some fear.
I've always liked tryin new things.
Why should this be any different?
It's them who are afraid of the different.
They want to rule a world they know.
I'll do one thing they just can't control.

***

Could it really be the end, Number Ten,
will you dance with me?
Could it really be the end, Number Ten,
we’ll just wait and see,
and if it really is the end,
I guess I’ll throw a big party,
and, all the boys and all the girls can come out,
and play with me.
A friendly game of hide-and-seek,
that could, easily last for weeks, and just,
when you think it’s peaked, you’ll forget to pour yourself
another drink.
You’ll be happy. You’ll be happy.
You’ll be happy, at my party

***

I guess you're just never gonna quit it.
I can kinda see how I've been bitchin,
But if I hear another one say that,
I'll play that blues they never expected,
just wreck shit with my unheralded confession;

Always meshin the mean between compassionate dreams,
That's how the others are, so reckless with their seems.

Maybe someone will figure out what I mean.
And let me know.

Until then, I don't know if I could ever be the one to stop my flow. It just keeps goin and goin.