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Fruits of My Labor

de Waxahatchee

I left your heart of glass in my unmade bed
In the right time, you could shine so bright in my doubtful eyes
And I imprint all your ideas on mine
I move awkwardly at the speed of light

Maybe it's easier to be afraid
Drenched in tragedy, manmade
And my compass is an antique
But if I'm not back soon, don't come looking for me

You can take it pretty far on a prayer that's pale and synthetic
Bending my crowbar with tension that's telekinetic
A paradox poetic, you get choked up reading the classics
Your pride'll take a gluttonous bite
A stupid question, I'd rather not ask it

I take a sip of something I can barely taste
Dull as dusk, with a skull and crossbones to bring us luck
And I, I know that you can't read my mind
I swear I said the same thing a hundred times

Maybe it's harder than it should be
Variations on a theme
I could wear it right on my sleeve
When an antagonist emerges, don't blame me

You can take it pretty far on a prayer that's pale and synthetic
Bending my crowbar with tension that's telekinetic
A paradox poetic, you get choked up reading the classics
Your pride'll take a gluttonous bite
A stupid question, I'd rather not ask it

A stupid question, I'd rather not ask it
A stupid question, I'd rather not ask it

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