Save the Atlas Forumer: Round 3 = Music Lyrics Edition

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

We all face the same way
Still it takes all day
Take a look to my left
Pick out the worst and the best
She paints her lip
Greasy and thick
Another mirror stare
And She's going where ?

Another office affair ?
To kill an unborn scare ?
Talk dirty to a priest ?
Makes them human at least
Is she running away ?
To start a brand new day ?
Or she going home ?
Why's she driving alone ?

Is anyone going anywhere ?
Everyone's gotta be somewhere

She got a body in the boot ?
Or just bags full of food ?
Those are models legs
But are they womens are they mens ?
She shouts down the phone
Missed a payment on the loan
She gotta be above the rest
Keeping up with the best

Is anyone going anywhere ?
Everyone's gotta be somewhere

Wait tables for a crook ?
Wrote a hard back book ?
You teach kids how to read ?
Sell your body on the street ?
A nurse without a job ?
Another uptown snob ?
But have I got you wrong ?
One look and you were gone

Is anyone going anywhere ?
Everyone gotta be somewhere

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

I- I believed- Memory might mirror no reflection on me,
I-I believed- that in forgetting I might set myself free.
But I woke up this morning with a piece of past caught in my throat- And I choked.
I- I bled- I tried to hide the heart from the head.
I- I bled- in the arms of a girl I'd barely met.
And I woke up this morning with the present in splinters on the ground- and the i drowned.
(And if I can't see its for want of...)
You-You said, "I see," if there's nothing here than its probably mine-
My-My turn to see- if there's nothing here it will always be mine
I- I've learned the taste of days that will always burn.
I- I've learned if its in the corner of my eye I can't always turn.
(And if I can't see its for want of...)

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Lemonade stands and memories
Of innocence and purity
And the noonday sun at ninety degrees
The things I carry with me

The ice cream man at four or five
How'd we flag him down and ask for rides
And evenings when we'd sit outside
And name the cloud shapes in the sky

Those days are gone now and we must carry on
But I will not forget the things I learned on your front lawn

And how we rode those dusty trails
On Huffys and Schwinns from Christmas sales
Made forts out of crates with rusty nails
And only came home when our stomachs failed

Those days are gone now and we must move forward still
But I will not forget the things I understood at your window sill

I walked your street again last night
And laughed to dull the sting of spite
But your door was dark and it made me cry
Cause mother always kept you shining bright

But things they change and people grow
And move in step with the green paper flow
But deep inside I wonder or maybe I already know
They they never really find the answers

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Would that you could touch this angel in a clutch of snakes.
Oh pretty, pretty, I'm aflame.
So excited, so unslept.
Somewhat littered, so unswept.
You have to sleep before you wake.
I am spilled and poured.
I am peeled and cored.
I am hanging from the floor.
Flicker like a freak through a sleepless week
In a black cell of forever.
There's a point to this.
A point I think I often miss.
Oh clever, clever, where's your heart?
You can turn a phrase until it reads a million ways.
It makes no sense but it's as good as it is sad.
I am sad, elated.
I am segregated.
There's this stitching and it's itching.
All my friends are dead.
Asleep in distant beds.
At least these enemies stay close.
Take me to the pretty ones.
I want to be a pretty one.
Sign me to a nice girl so she can ruin me eternally.
They offered me a million bucks.
All I want's a steady fuck.
Oh steady, steady, where are you?
Channer surf a sea of static,
See the prize but you can't have it.
There's something thankless in a wish fulfilled.
I am thrilled and bored.
I am unskilled, adored.
All of both and none of one.
I would kill for more.
I haven't killed before.
I could set this heart on stun.
Take me to the pretty ones.
I want to be original.
Sign me to a nice girl so I can sing her something meaningful.
In my perfect world I'd be signed to a nice girl.
It would cost one million kisses.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

I went to a party last night.
What sick things I saw.
Makeout sessions and bicycle messengers,
Punks and art school dropouts.
I ran into this guy I knew
But hadn't seen in years.
We went into the neon kitchen and stole a couple beers.
He said his girl had dumped him
But there was another guy.
He said that he still liked her.
All I could say was,
"Why, why, oh why, oh why,
Why is it always like this?
Either you're too mean, or you're too nice."
He said, "I even cooked her breakfast."
So we went into the living room.
Someone was blasting Zeppelin.
It sounded good.
I felt ashamed.
I knew every drum fill.
Anyway, there she sat,
Totally kissing this guy.
They looked good, I mean like in love.
Then I remembered my friend.
He said, "How could you do this?
You said that you needed your space.
He's wearing the shirt that I gave you."
Then she said, "Why, why, oh why, oh why,
Why are you always like this?
If I'm having fun then it's breaking your heart.
Besides, you said I could have it."
Then the cops showed up.