Tuning out of starlight,
the innocent lifetime flickers and flashes under a canvas.
No, nobody seems worth it.
And while the feeling's sophisticated, the view is so restrained.
The past is nearing closer, and closer I fear.
So let's just cut the bullshit and tell me who's independent.
Thumbs twiddling and your life's escaping your mind.
Keep in mind, well the air ain't as free as it used to be,
but that's quite alright when you're still eighteen.
It seems to be, and I'll tell you who's overrated.
What's a beautiful person with some hideous dreams?
While the lining isn't silver,
we're verging on the side of the road that will take us home.
The edge of us is getting weighed,
read about your life in your local paper.
Realize the end of us is getting near,
you're just a droplet of a paint trickled off your canvas.
Delirious, illusions flow back into the river of color
while we analyze to try to see it clearer.
Secretly appealing to a lonely prisoner.
And now what's your vision?
Initiate your shading and bring the universe together in time,
it only gets a little easier.
Suddenly piece yourself back together.
Now, what's your vision?
And I don't want to have to give a damn about you, or your inhibitions.
And after all you're the one who taught me love was not for everybody.
However, I'm starting to see this world in the right light, yet it still gets darker.
You see, it's just a simple symphony, or a painting? Whatever.
This unnatural path, it spans infinitely,
but my world is crumbling.
Let it collapse into the abyss,
in the midst of summer it won't exist.
This emptiness, it's just a blank slate,
waiting for a painter to interfere.
It's quite complex, but what do I know?