[Verse 1]
I’m on that twelve month delay, life of an artist
I spend time with my recordings by never belonging
Stopped sleeping in the morning, I don’t set alarms
It feels natural, we should probably stop with the porn
Would you rather lock doors or drop jaws?
Duck a comfort zone, I know all my butterflies’ moms
Scattered thunderstorms, I could write 100 bad songs
Only one of them’s not really so bad after all, hypothetical
Call me whatever’ll do it
I save my breath for the music
Penciled in myself on the mound
I hit the first 7 batters, sent a massage around
I likе movies from the 70s now
School’s out
Directorial dеbut’s on the marquee
Only drink coffee on the weekends, I’m starving
I feel like Chinaski in the post office
I keep a memoir under each pillow
Waking up sweating in a hoodie no kidding
Turn the show off, lookie lookie no mittens
Lucky that my dreams scare me into being bolder when I zig zag
Bishop or a tin man
Misanthropic antihero, cinefile villain
By the third act they still haven’t met formally
If we ever meet I like my angels vivacious
Even though half of me’s frozen like the groceries
Socially, low & behold, we’re all acquainted now
Noticing the pattern in a pitter patter rain sound
Is similar to pads on the hardwood
Facedown on a Friday
All i really know is keep working like blind dates
[Chorus]
(Keep working like blind dates)
(Keep working like blind dates)
You don’t even know what you look like
I don’t even know what you look like
You don’t even know
Wait, I don’t
You don’t even know what you look like
You don’t even know what we look like
My bad

[Verse 2]
Second verse is still me
Fried demo in the drop box at one or two or three
I hit Monk on a Friday and told him bout my week in the form of an mp3
Is this me?
Is that weird?
Is this free?
What that is if i can’t share it with everybody?
I walk amongst scary shadows and ball bearings
Origami bones, I see creases in your epidermis
Growing pains are coming
You can miss me with the epidural
Hydroponics yield more but something feels off with not giving them soil if its available
We don’t do shortcuts
It looks like you stole your tour bus
I saw your balance sheet and almost threw up
Your liabilities are screwed up, priorities too
I know feeling all alone but not wanting to move
That’s when self interest deserves a boost
Shoot, I’ve got a blind date in a few
If I’m late it’s on you