Believing Butterflies Can Be Eagles

Wondering if ill make it through
Without any red on my skin
This bedroom clock is precise and fast
Keeping up with what we had
(Its all been bad) my pillows flat
(This solid concrete) before I picture what I am

Lonely hearts in lonely rooms
Pulled down blinds and open windows
* Need failure for the best *

12 o clock and nothing new
Thinking how I got so through
Breaking up bloodshot eyes
Reminders of the art like cries
(Its all been bad) my pillows flat
(This solid concrete) before I picture what I am


I have to be standing up before you knock me down
* How you gunna do that? *