Mistakeism

I’m gonna be the girl in the box
The magician’s assistant
Dismembered every night by a bunch of foul tricks
I’m thinking next year in the presidential election
Maybe i can vote for the mighty rat king!
I connect the bullet holes and see no picture
Way too many bullet holes to begin with
Got an elaborate plan not to belong anywhere
But i am stuck in a shoe box at the end of the street
So, my new religion is strict mistakeism
A rule book of close calls and near misses
In a month or two i could be the high priestess
But i’ll be gone, watching things burn from a distance
I got here wearing a coat made from other people’s fingers
I’ll exit wearing nothing but my own soft shell
Maybe i could be a hermit or a snail if i want to
As long as i look like a gazelle
Got stuck on a guilt trip on board of a friend ship
I forgot who i was floating down the canal
As an ice berg breaking into smaller and smaller pieces
I am aging as an act of rebellion
Taking up space is my first million
I am collecting your unpopular opinions
Got them locked away to protect the civilians
It’s not my job to proof i am resilient
I was sold night terrors as light errors
Terrified of settling down and sleeping
Tell me i’m not the only one
Always checking twice
If the sleeping ones are still breathing
Wouldn’t hold my breath I won’t choke on being broke
With a cracked heart and a shattered jaw bone
Gotta be an escape artist to break the glass ceiling
If it’s really all six sides of the aquarium
It might be all six sides of the aquarium
I think it’s all six sides of the aquarium