there is a map in my room, on the wall of my room
and i've got big, big plans.
but i can see them slipping through,
almost feel them slipping through
the palms of my sweaty hands
and i move slow,
slow enough to make you uncomfortable
you say "i hate you", you mean it, and "i love you" sounds fake - it's taken me so long to figure that out
i used to love the taste, i would do anything for it,
now i would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth
and you're so confident, but i hear you crying in your sleeping bag
but you were broken bad yourself, and you were mad as hell,
you felt that if you had done anything with anyone else, it would've worked out so well
but you are an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to
one day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom,
and you’ll be thinking "how did i get here?
where the hell am I?"
if the roles were reversed, you could have seen me sneaking up,
sneaking up from behind
she sees these visions,
she feels emotion,
she says that i cannot go, she sees my plane in the ocean
"and what about your friends don’t you love them enough to stay?"
and i say "if i don’t leave now, then i will never get away!"
let me be a blue raft on a blue sea, i’ll blend right in
there is a map in my room, on the wall of my room, and i’ve got big, big plans.
but i can see them falling through, almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands