Plastic leaves and whitened teeth
Are littering the floor
All these screens, the disparate themes
What do you adore?
The violet light that angles me
Composes my decor
Searching for a better way
Not to feel so torn
I’ve been tired searching for
Tired wreaths, worn memories
And writing on the floor
Chelsea runs and asks of me
What are these wrists for?
The city kids were lost for weeks
Pushed out the door
Searching for a better way
Not to feel so torn
I’ve been tired searching for
She can’t remember when
She felt her own age
She didn’t need to live
On her own stage
Chelsea sits and begs of me
Oh, what do I live for?
I am now remembering
But always so unsure
Crazy man, he laughs at me
He’s pointing out the door
There’s nothing but transparent breeze
What do you want more?
I’ve been tired searching for
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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