Ceiling Fan

In the plaster right above me
There's a thousand stucco dots and
I've counted them all, laying in bed
I'll connect them soon, in my head
Escapism's a powerful drug
Where'd it get me? Am I just a
Jack of all trades, master of none
What's left over when the show's done?

I must confess, it knows best
My path isn't clear quite yet
With all this indecision
I start to envy the ceiling fan that spins

On this instrument there is a chord structure
I haven't found yet
I'll connect it to the amp in my head
Playing 'til my fingers turn red
This keyboard has a secret arrangement of
Words, my masterpiece
And I will write it, front to back
As the walls begin to crack

I can attest, it knows best
My path isn't clear quite yet
With all this indecision
I start to envy the ceiling fan that spins

I must confess, it knows best
My path isn't clear quite yet
With all this indecision
I start to envy the ceiling fan that spins

All this indecision
Tryna map a personal mission
I'm losing touch with all my friends
Tryna stop before it starts again