Tophouse Deathbed
There's a picture of my deathbed hanging high upon the wall
Where my dreams and aspirations come to meet up for a talk
And all they ever talk about are the ways that they can keep me out of it
Now I'm looking for perspective, how I'd love to get her take
Might she offer up an anecdote, or the just right thing to say
Like "It's a lovely composition, but the bigger picture's always hidden by the frame"
Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain to all of my friends
Details are cool, they won't be in the room when it's time
Make up and tuck in to my death bed
There's a hustle in the culture, there's a stone in which I grind
I've been spinning wheels, looking for an edge I hope to find
In a race that's never ending even though I keep on pretending that it does
Now I'm picking up the pieces to the puzzle that I solved
So that I can then collect them and put them back inside the box
And in tomorrow's border I can spread them on the floor and start again, oh
Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain to all of my friends
Details are cool, they won't be in the room when it's time
Make up and tuck in to my death bed
Stuck in minutiae with nothing to do but complain to all of my friends
Details are cool, they won't be in the room when it's time
Make up and tuck in to my death bed
