Boys In the Attic - The Mae Shi

Things left to be dreamt

Envision purpose that I never meant

Plans problicate

Dreams you’ll never see

I feel them divide

Into fluids to hold my open stare in place

And maybe let it stew or set in this jar

Or on my neck or to collect dust in the attic

I’m feeling more depressed than I did the other day

Shell out the compliments man

Or spread them over the entire tiering cake

Or do me the favor of sparing me of my own private pyrite pity party

Cause this bed pan produces only what smells of mommy’s little rotting vegetable

Cage yourself in

To make you feel at home

Your home is where your head is