the war on boredom

Four months ago in the dead of the cold I told you every little thing that I hide And I watched As you tried to make sense of the mess painted on my face And you bought a new microwave and I bet it was just to drown out the noise From my end To pretend and to live in a world where I made sense But today isn't yesterday Even if I want it to be that way in the end Even if it won't be me I know I'll try to compete On one half of my feet I'll take a run with the rest I fall out of my place and take a breath You said that I reap all that I sow But I never even took a first step Used my toe as a crutch I never did a lay-up on stage And I know In the end that nothing that I do is with my own hands From the helm I command myself to do things they'll understand But still I grow my hair And I look and I change everything that I can with my hands One more line and then I'll step out of the bath But oh its not enough I'd tear my arms out of place if I could I'd build myself back up and make it good