we're passing around the
blunt
but no one holds it as gently
as i do
no one else depends on
it
to make them happy

You are the prettiest piece of art,
a real masterpiece,
unforgettable,
I am sure.
So I think
I'm going to hang you,
hang you from
a forty-five degree angle,
make you a sweet classic.

I'm surrounded by a sea of people
As far as the eye can see
All flowing in the same direction
And just floating along, is me

I've been wading in this water
Letting it carry me any way
Not caring about which direction
And never having any say

After wading all this time though
My legs started growing tired
So finally it was time to choose
Which direction I desired

But the problem with floating along
Was that I never became aware
I wasn't really a part of the waves
I was just sort of...there

What I wanted didn't matter
The waves still moved as one
Whether I moved with or against them
Didn't matter in the long run

Then I thought I better get out
And give myself some time to think
But I couldn't see the shore anymore
And with that, I started to sink

Now I'm surrounded by a sea of people
As far as the eye can see
All still flowing in the same direction
But drowning in it, is me

I saw your wrists in the Sky this morning,
Planes trailing white lines above my frosting breath.
They scarred the flawless blue expanse,
Marring it with imperfection.
Beautiful, wonderful, perfect imperfection.