Canary, Pt. 2

Somewhere in the back and forth
In the in-betweens, they're getting bored
The wall's not sure how it should feel
Floor asks the ceiling if it's real
Underneath the regency and me
Embraced by psychopathic trees
They ripped a fault line straight to hell
To spite the groundswell

And it's scared
Of what a cat made out of liquid glass
With lyrics tattooed on his back
Will write in the bathroom stall
A songbird lights a cigarette
Hopes against fuck all the sky's impressed
By the clouds amidst his silhouette
The contrast not quite settled yet

Dead leaves gathered to rebuild
Trembling wings they couldn't kill
Circles of snow form behind
The countless things more terrifying
Than being wrong when you were sure
Of something instinct said to ignore
Jackals gather at your door
Sometimes it's just easier to

Stare
At the cat made out of liquid glass
With dogma tattooed on his ass blankly
A songbird lights a cigarette
Hopes against fuck all the sky's impressed
A jester's dancing on his chest
Applause followed by emptiness
So fair
So fair

I wrote a song the other day
Feelings oppressive, I can't say
What possessed me to forget it
It'll kill me if I let it
I'll buy a rhyming dictionary
And I'll sing like that canary
That I am far from ordinary
And that fucking scares me
I'll keep a pen beside my bed
In hopes the dreams will all make sense
Most of them are pretty boring
But nightmares are a different story