Idealization

I see the world ending

And I keep on pretending

To have plans for the future like you


Maybe it’s the snow

Or the self-hatred I sow

That makes it look like its not worth pulling through


I try to think forward

There’s fog, mist, and mortar

I couldn’t save myself a cent if I tried


I found an old letter

From myself from when I was better

It said, “Sorry I didn’t meet you before I died”


Oh, smoke in trees

Are you a sign or just a moment in the breeze

Oh, don’t worry about me

When Wormwood comes, I’ll be just fine


I talked to a screen

About a deadly disease

And I took down notes I didn’t believe


I keep thinking there’s a cure

For a four letter word

That doesn’t apply itself to me


They say money doesn’t matter

So they raised up the ladder

Made begging a sport on the streets


Its hard to grow older

Watching young minds grow colder

And hoping that at the end we’ll still meet


Oh, spots on the sun

Are you a warning or a signal of peace yet to come

Oh, don’t try to run

The trumpet’s already been fired