Deadbolt

I always seem to see things that I shouldn't.

I never seem to get it right.

I always seem to paint such pretty pictures.

But they're always in black and white.

Everybody tells me that it isn't God's plan.

And I'm just messing it all up.

I know they're probably right and I should just bail.

Turn my wheel towards the high road, but..

It feels good to go left.

It feels good to miss-step.

I pave my own roads and build my own castles.

I made a world for myself.

And then the flood rushed in and threw it all sideways.

And my heavens gave away to hell.

Sometimes you just need to find the fog and lie in it.

For a week or two on your own.

Keep making things empty and shattering glass.

And ripping up seems you've sown.

It feels good to forget.

It feels good to reset.

Baby split the bottle between the two of them.

Shut the blinds and lock the doors. (Deadbolt)

One sprawled out on the lavender couch.

And the other sat on the floor.

And the mannequin walked and the dial tone talked.

And the dirt bled red when it should have bled mud.

Do you see what you do to me?

Do you see what you do to me?