This time around, sometimes I cry for the same
The same voice speaking out: electric misery
Like lightning flashing about in conversation
No need to call him out, believe your intuition
How is it you want him to be? Vivid and psychic?
Inventing new cliches, bringing not happiness nor hope
Think it do not matter now, the hurtful gifts we bring
Subject to prop and plan
We have to nominate a signal we can understand
By now the naked entrants aren't who we need
Beneath the hollow tree in gratitude, I'm waking up
To cut my deal