No more promises to go to bed earlier
No more making up meaning for the mess on the floor,
No more pages all across my desk.
No more of the big clothes to hide what I don't have.
No more burying myself in those goals I made.
It's all just piling up under me,
Pushing me up toward the sun,
And the longer I wait, the more I think it'll go away.
But really, the longer I wait,
The more it gets worse.
When I was a little younger than I am now,
I went home after school and wrote until bedtime.
That was enough to take me into the stratosphere.
I'd play in the cloud for hours and hours.
I will tell you what I remember from high school, and I will tell you how you can follow in my sinful and lowly footsteps, that your blood might be as holy as mine.
I first began in the business of selling people when I sold a strange man in Jerusalem that I did not like for thirty silver pieces. Swaths of people flocked after him down into the precipice of the market.
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