How easy it would be to be able to pick and choose who we suffer for

Draw a bath and tie the hair back, poor a glass of wine, and relax,
Go down a list and write check marks or exes next to the names of our skeletons, the places we hide away into at night,
How easy it would be

I’m not here to say that it isn’t easy, I’m just here to fantasize about not picking the gaps between your teeth until there’s enough space for everyone who’s wronged you to slide into, create a home and live

Sometimes I like to write symphonies using the tones of voicemails I’ve received because I just don’t have the guts to pick up the phone,
To be able to orchestrate absolute feeling on a whim,
How easy it would be

But instead, we’re here, teeter tottering between how many cigarettes we’ll have left by the end of all of this, or how happy we could be, or simply how bad a hangover we’re going to have in the morning,
But we’re soldiers like this

And the rations will last us— just long enough,
To pick the phone up when our friends call,
Tell them we love them, listen to that one paramore album over and over until we become 15 again,
Immerse ourselves into whatever nostalgia we refuse to let go of

How easy it would be,
To be able to pick and choose who we suffer for