Year of the Sofa

People talk about the storm that’s coming, a thousand lives through cinema’s
shelves/
Talk to strangers in hotel lobbies, get my leads through cinema’s shelves/
People talk about the golden era, I saw it and nothing changed/
Late night thoughts like they’re everybody’s Gospel —
But I could tell you that from my sofa
Judging your steps to improve in vain
I need time
Give me time before the genius strikes
There was a man who drew broad, hidden truths with his pen, they said
The work/words more lucid than they were to himself
But when he got what he wanted it was what he once wanted/
Elevated ruminations, when everybody goes down/
And at the party, when the band kept playing, they never asked me to play their
game
A thousand pages in the book you’ll never know now
I never even found out his name
I need time
Give me tiiiiiime
Before I
I think we might need to make some corrections
Rationalising fears as misdirection/Living out fantasies by self-rejection
You’ll find me on the couch, spinning webs of accumulated lies
Fantasies that leave me unsatisfied
Remember when’s the lowest form of conversation
Remember when gets you to a lot of places
Fantasies that leave me unsatisfied
No today, but tomorrow is all miiiiine
Another burnt out for the niiiight
Drawing broad strokes of accumulated liiiies
Fantastic that leave me unsatisfied