it's not getting that late, i won't confess.
all these nights so far, they color our differences,
you're less than i require. you're spread thinner
than all of my unjustified bar tabs across the town,
across the oil belt, and i won't feel happy,
i'm not willing, to share your time with anyone else.
i've already worn holes in some of my clothes,
waiting for you, thank god for hand-me-downs,
thank my lucky stars
for shit that fits too tight.
this itch of mine, will it
help me survive all these nights i've missed you?
will you be willing to share? or are you below the
required years to hear, i won't feel content,
i'm not willing, i've got polygamy to abhor.
these winds will change you. easily.
wait, it'll change you, when it feels right.
i've got open nerves, i've got terminals,
i've got synapses randomly firing, raring back
to meet you. so far, it colors us both electric blue.
you're from across the tracks, and your shock
echoes and magnifies my surprise. we're finally
indifferent to our differences.
trust that, in time, this cloak of social and economic
difference will evaporate with mercy. we're not that different.
we're not that different, but their aversion, it hurts.
my newfound feelings for you will eventually accumulate,
across my heart, and i won't feel happy,
until you're willing to share your time with no one but me
the sour taste
the sour taste of time.
these tastes will change you. easily.
this sleeping flavored tidal wave.
don't avert, this will change you. easily.
shades of us, shades of something new.
don't avert, this will change you. easily