Praise Song

Jane insists we take the long way through all kinds of scenery
There’s things you don’t see in me after a long day
Fuckers in the frat stars make a pass at your friend, gets a slap
I bit my nails in the shade
Your eyes are getting glassy
I was singing praise songs like I did when I was five
The lines I thought were keeping me alive
When do the first become the last?
Domesticate what I can’t ask
The architecture meets your eyes
You stay composed, you moves through light
The exodus ensues at midday
The way your hair falls and your collection of freckles frames your face in a
bouquet
Magnetic in the spotlight
Carve a hole in the floor with my eyes
I lock my knees into place
Too much and not the mood
No reason to construe
Too much and not the mood
No need to get confused
Your eyes are getting glassy
I was singing praise songs like I did when I was five
The lines I thought were keeping me alive