| Talk about something new |
| I’m goddamn desperate |
| I’m fucking begging you |
| In a test of recorded afternoons, you’ve changed |
| To an «A» for effort beside the city train |
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head |
| Behold a glimpse of the nights you’re guarding |
| And holding back |
| There’s a panic button to start the heart attack |
| It’s the «new you» per your suggestion |
| Mostly sad instead |
| Inner monologue ingestion |
| Curse it off again |
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head |
| A conversation forced into becoming such a chore |
| Appearing cold and careless |
| To keep me on the up and out |
| Since I’ve been writing books you’ve sewn the binding |
| An obligation stitched between careers |
| But you’ve been seaming like a stranger |
| I could try for the sake of trying |
| You could try to say I’m wrong |
| Or we could fail at the hands of us failing |
| I can rarely bite my tongue for too long |
| You heard it’s better left unspoken |
| And you heard it’s better left alone |
| But what the hell do you know? |
| I know how we get, we get distracted |
| And I know how you are |
| A single shot of whiskey, toast the battle scars |
| I know it’s a common cause for thicker skin |
| I know the mourning stage is over, I know I’m right again |
| Just spinning wheels spinning thread and my spinning head |
| A conversation forced into becoming such a chore |
| Appearing cold and careless |
| To keep me on the up and out |
| Since I’ve been writing books you’ve sewn the binding |
| An obligation stitched between careers |
| But you’re still seaming like a stranger |
| You keep on seeming like a stranger |