The daily horoscopes (feat. Bugs Baschera)

Horoscopes
I do the daily horoscopes
You can't imagine the "scope" of my "horror"
When I was asked to do the daily horoscopes

But they all really seem to like them
I could too, if I had time to rehearse
An astronomer doing an astrologist's job
What could be worse?

What do we write in the stars?
Only what we want to see
Only what we want to be
What do we write in the stars?
What do I write?

Cinnamon
she sort of smelled like cinnamon
Okay, fuck, this is stupid, like, what am I doing?
I need to get on horoscopes, not cinnamon

Cause she- they all! -really seem to like them
Maybe that is the blessing in this curse
It's an astronomer doing an astrologist's job
Not the reverse

Thankfully
Fuck

What do we write in the stars?
What would they all want to see?
What would they all want to be?
What do we write in the stars?
What do I write

If I want this to feel
Like it's real, like it's different?
With diction, conviction's what gives it its weight
It needs that glue

So I
Need to try something different
And maybe she'd want me to

Maybe we write in the stars
That I'm what she wants to see
That I'm what she wants me to be
Maybe we write in the stars
Her wanting me