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Swimming in a snifter |
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pretty as a picture |
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don't get it twisted man, her bite is a b*tch |
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you can name, you can keep her |
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but take care when you feed her |
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you never can take the fight out the fish |
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chomping at the drill bit |
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never one to still sit |
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you can test my metal with a magnet and some tin snips |
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ink test all I see is canines and some wing tips |
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pilot pen in pocket, I'm riding instinct and ink jets |
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around here we don't like talk of big dreams |
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to stand out is a pride, a conceit |
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to aim high is to make waves, to split seams |
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but that's not what it seems like to me cause |
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I wanna try, I wanna risk |
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and I don't wanna walk |
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I'd rather swing and miss |
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I'm not above apologies but I don't ask permission |
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got a lot of imperfections but I don't count my ambition in them |
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Chorus: |
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Zeno's arrow never hits the mark |
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it's always hanging there over its shadow |
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safe from battle, waste of archer's time and trouble |
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waste of effort, waste of parts |
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if you don't aim for the center, it's a waste of the art |
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I didn't come looking for love |
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I didn't come to pick a fight |
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I didn't come to wave or take pictures |
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pander to some benefactor, ring on every broken finger |
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won't extend my wings to be clipped |
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I know the culture here is to stay humble, but sh*t |
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if we all go round bowed heads, button-lipped |
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if never none of us go for the belt, who wins? |
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my mother says I've loved too many men |
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but I took and left something in every single bed |
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turns his head |
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but he night might rise up, investigate the grid |
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gender, genre, guess I'm on one |
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both the constructs |
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women, children let me tell you, I've been both |
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and it's a myth we all swim for the lifeboats |
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I didn't come looking for love |
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I didn't come to pick a fight |
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I come here every night to work |
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and you can grab an ax man or you can step aside |
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Chorus |
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Self taught, self made, bet self styled |
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self came |
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We march in Converse |
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own tools |
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my joints hold steady |
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Chucks laced ready |
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I travel by kite, travel |
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touchdown |
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I swallowed the dice |
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I make my own luck now |
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Zeno's arrow never hits the mark |
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it's always hanging there over it's own shadow in the dark |
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it's own shadow in the dark |
