Parliament and Celadon

I’d like to get some good rest in before I die I’d like to take a left turn and not look for traffic on my right if you don’t feel it now do you feel anything at all? I’ll call you by your old name, call you whatever you want I am them, I’m one of them, and so are you by now you’ve scraped up every bit of pleasure that you wanted to here’s a metaphor, here’s a bible verse I met the sliding doors version of myself I’ve never met anybody else today I heard your singing voice in every sound you never knew to push your luck, you only took what you’re allowed tell your old house you forgive it now, burnt by parliaments and celadons you won’t return until you’re really gone