May 25th, 2015 lyrics

by

Qixote


[Verse 1]
What would happen if I told this fat cashier
That I could see her ass crack when she asked, “Lad, dear
Do you have Rewards?”; if I told her, “My dad changed
His phone number ‘cause Mama caught his ass last year.”
What would happen if I soaked a rag (cashmere)
In gasoline & lit it with a black match near
The gas pump, searing my pores
Would you call it self-immolation or would you say that
I’m a beaner with a pea where my brain sits?
What would happen if I put this car in fifth gear
Pushed my foot to the floor, wiped a chin tear
Pulled the steering wheel to the left & veered into semi headlights
Like a sick deer?
Would you call it kamikaze or would you say that I was texting & driving;
That I had stayed up all night & couldn’t keep my eyelids open;
So much potential & should’ve kept my options open;
Could you have stopped the omen that ate my flesh like I was on a stick
Above a topless stove?
What would happen if, when approached by a white motherf*cker who
Stops his car when I cut him off, gets out, and gets to cussin and spittin
(tough-talking and simmering), I got out of the car and stuck my fist through his head?
Would you prove me correct? Or would you clasp the cuffs on my wrists
Tell me to speak up or get hit. Tell me I’ve no right to remain silent
Because since when have amendments meant sh*t for bodies with this colored skin?
(since when has pretending helped me to win?)

[Hook]
Sun would keep rising. Sun would keep falling
You are the horizon stuffed into a coffin
Me with both eyes red. Me with Soul softened
Moon’s still mesmerizing. Moon is still callin'

[Verse 2]
It’s so long since my heart has been with yours
Our fingers intertwine like chandelier shards spread across the floor
I swallow my own bullets for you like I’m in the corps—
Driving tired tires through the gravel straight into the war
Plastic drifts ashore, and we seagulls find our nooses
With our beaks we kiss each other, and then we say our truces
Talons buried in the sand, wire wrapped around the glands
Stones secured in children’s hands—we flap our wings because they’re useless
Enough with the metaphors. The point is that I used to say
“I love you,” and now I tell you that I’m bored
I used to say “I trust you,” on our midnight walks to stores
Now I only say “I love you,” when your fingers lace my drawers
Am I using you? ‘Cause every whim in my chest swears that two
Plus two equals all the numbers besides four; that the glass is half-empty
As a drunk’s gourd or a monday in the nightclub
Every time I wanna say “I hate you,” I tell you “I love you
I’m so grateful that I date you.”
This is just a lullaby of the infinitely heightened anguish
That I breathe when I breathe you in. Seasons switch;
Demons get impatient when the languish levels lower
So they strip the trees of leaves and fill the concrete up with snow
(or is it ash?). Butterflies with amputated wings could show
You that the latter option’s closer
I am closer to loneliness than ever before

[Bridge]
It’s so long since my heart has been with yours
Now I’m saying so long cause my heart is on the floor

[Hook]
Sun would keep rising. Sun would keep falling
You are the horizon stuffed into a coffin
Me with both eyes red. Me with Soul softened
Moon’s still mesmerizing. Moon is still callin'

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