An actor I may be,
But only by Degree.
I guess you don't need a Drama School
To take the world as a bunch of fools.
You learn your lines,
Say you need "time",
And always play it cool.

A musician you may be,
But only by Degree.
Perhaps I should sing along
Next time you write a song.
Sing the highs and the lows,
And the cliche sorrows.
And wonder where we went wrong.

You can't trust no man but your father.
But I can't be mad, you played the game.
This is why they give storms names.
We are the only natural disaster.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Were you pushed or did you fall?
With glue and tape, I can put you back
Though you'll remain forever cracked.

Wake up with an ugly old bed head
Breakfast is coffee and stale bread
I'd like to complain
About taxes and rain
But I won't
'Cause at least I am not dead

I miss your eyes illuminating with the fire in your heart,
Burning as you ramble on before returning to the start.

The lyrics, the key change, the hook, the middle eight.
"This is the best part", you say, "this next part here, wait"

Musical jargon soaring high above my head for hours
While you sing me folk songs of women with hair full of flowers.

And though I didn't understand what you meant by A Minor,
I knew it sounded beautiful because your smile shone brighter.

Flowers in her hair like the first blossom of spring.
Swaying in the wind, picturesque.
The birds, for her, they sing.

When her branches lay bare and she's empty and colder,
Don't take it personally,
Don't be afraid to hold her.

Seasons come and go
And this you should know,
She will never be evergreen.

Kinda lost in my mind that's made of candy floss.
Everything's a blur in my green and hazy world.
Floating on a cloud where the silence is too loud.
Oh I love my cotton candy brain.