Doesn't it make sense to drop your body into a steaming tub
Surrounded by a thousand flickering flames
Nestling yourself down into an infinite amount of bubbles
It seems so simple and easy
Like creativity as a child
Where did my sense of art go?
I can see it everywhere but in my own head
It's like leaning toward the middle of the back seat to watch the bugs
On the front window battle the mist that grows fiercer
Pretending there are cameras from every angle as water rolls steadily down the window to your side
Humming a tune that you think you made up
Because you can't remember where you've heard it before
And now tears full of salt destroy the soap that has encompassed your whole body
The art you so carefully dreamt of isn't really yours but you'll say it is anyway
Because it makes you feel good
It gives you a sense of power
Some sort of control
Because Lord knows you're really just drowning in the rain
Like those bugs on the windshield
That didn't have a chance anyway