Benzo Blues

from by Thom Weeks

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lyrics

I'll sing you a song
You tell me a joke, but you're telling it wrong
The punchline is garbled
And I'm not in the mood for some half hearted foreplay
So I'll cover my face
Mask my intentions
I'm falling space
Tumbling aimlessly
Not quite convinced I should really be smoking
I feel something
Maybe not
It's confusing
It's the best that I've got
When we lie here
Inches from touching's to far for me
How'd you hold your composure together so easily?
Calm like a bomb
Rambling rhetoric
Laid out toe to toe
Fumbling pointlessly
Not quite convinced there's a point in me sleeping
So shit, what's the point?
Self loathingly sarcastic
Shift at the joints
Suspending everything
Trying to skip forward and get on the fast train
I feel nothing
Maybe not
It's confusing
It's the best that I've got
When we lie here
Inching from touching's too far for me
How'd you hold your composure together so easily?
I'll never know
Why I'm making a fool of myself

credits

from George, released August 17, 2015

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