Today I drew a map on my arms
It matches the old map on my legs
Now I can be useful to someone
Now I can be fruitful and divide

Still I’m afraid I’ll end up serving them
Yeah I’m afraid I’ll end up hurting them
But wait, I’ve done that already
And history repeats
But wait, I’ve done this already

They say don’t cry over spilt soul
But they’re not the ones growing ever-old
Turned off as they chant “turn me on”
With lacerating smiles from a smoking gun
I gave everything to my stereo
But it hasn’t helped me to carry on
I tried so hard to give not to take
But I’m still enemy number one

So here’s the end of the rope
As my eyes trace the destiny of these roads
They seem to run straight to my heart
But I know my brain trumps that
I’ve tried to get a big head start
But machines made sure to stop me flat
I pray for the end, the passing time
And a good friend to leave behind
But it’s as futile as it can be
My tear ducts are all empty
So I’ll pray to the nothing
Where I’ll linger, where I began
Pull up my dark cape sheet
Make death a poetry slam
The ships are coming in
The monsters are leaving the bed
Now underneath is a pair of boots
A record, and a stain of red
I’ll take nothing and everything
With me when I go
A brain in a guitar case
Would be a gentle bode
I’m sailing now, far away
To a place I will call home-
I know my true parents are
Spread wide open

Today I drew a map on my arms
It matches the old map on my legs