Consequence of Nonaction - WHY?

I was built into the form of a man

By nothing if you believe that

That I’m not looking for nothing in nobody’s eyes is a lie

Long to be seen in my silence

After the years of shyness

That I’m not looking for nothing in nobody’s eyes is a lie

You keep your wants registered with committees in your mind

Each empty breath a record of what isn’t there

Will I be counted out among those from you taken

Slowly your scalp spits a cowlick for me

Over years spread out as a dull persistent feeling

As something you forgot, that might’ve never been

In the hole on the Alcatraz tour

You were scared to touch the walls

You were scared to touch the floor

Oh I want to touch your pulse

I want to touch your core

And I hide in your pores like a puss

No, I want more

Phone number like a misdealt hand in euchre

You’re all the way more beautiful than a photograph of you

Don’t dig out that mote again

Well I still need something

And it might be you

Don’t dig out that mote again

Don’t dig out

Don’t dig out that mote again

Don’t dig out

Don’t dig out that mote again

You can take this lonesome token

And toss it in the ocean

But hear me now weary in my tongue

Hold it in your hand

Hide it from the wind

Sleep with it like a secret

And its wages will root deep beneath it