The Island of Misfit Toys
Architects
We get so heavy, and we've gotta let it breathe
My night proves sleepless
I watch a live birth before I go to work
Is that you smiling?
I thought I knew what I was doing
'til I watched the teeth shoot through in every beam
We get so heavy, and we've gotta let it breathe
My loose end's leafless
The Doctor feels the spin just when he stands
That's why he's smiling
Then I'm reminded why he's crying
I join in; I'm completely fine with it
We get so heavy and we've gotta let it breathe
Preserve the image
Of the last vibrant seconds I was clean
And I'm still smiling
Each notebook's in a drawer
Thousands of words do what these pictures should've done
Black
Done up like a doll
Done up like the laminated cover
Of my rite-of-passage/social-death-knell
Hide in gravy-boat eyes
In flying-saucer midnight
Bounce, back and forth, up and down
Echo-chamber dread
You hollow out my head
I'm swallowed by my bed
You're resting on my shelf
You're kissing me goodnight
You're wishing me good morning
Now tell me
Do we look anything like a mirror?
I wake up amazed everyday, that in spite of every shortcoming, of every misstep and halfstep, and every debased covenant, and every ripped contract behind that backs of my makers, I'll always be fine. It's like what Ms. Magnusson said, in the darkness of the Guided Study room, pulling me out of my own huddled mass just to tell me I'll always be fine. It's so simple, that after all this, it seems sick, but I'll always be fine. As long as you stay, perched with me on this Earth, waiting to be lifted, I'll always be fine
Now tell me
Do we look anything like a mirror?