Tiptoe

I don't know what's good for me
A fiend of stumbling fantasies
Still singing clumsy lullabies
Till someone screams 'enough'
I tiptoed too carefully
A walking sunk cost fallacy
With every living alibi
Afraid of showing up

They said just tell your story
What if I barely have one, all you'll get
Is a scuffed recording
And half unfinished, over-sugared earl grey in the morning
I hope that's not too boring
Without some undefinable love triangles
And missions to the moon

But who has the time
To fly in the real world
And who has the guts
To taste the absurd
When you're addicted to caution tape
All wrapped round your forehead
Primed to fire alarms
And getaway cars
With every spare word

'Cause I don't know what's good for me
A fiend of stumbling fantasies
Still singing clumsy lullabies
Till someone screams 'enough'
I tiptoed too carefully
A walking sunk cost fallacy
With every living alibi
Afraid of showing up

If I just give it a minute
Will I still hear the crickets
What's the point of the truth if your heart isn't in it
To tiptoe past the limit
A life determined by digits
Is there anything to say or is it all implicit
Right from the beginning
There's a number I'm missing
Can't afford to just sit around and die for a living
Well who am I kidding
The week ends and all that I'm getting
Is a winning ticket for a bottle of wine

So who has the time
To live in a dream world
And who has the guts
For falling in love
When you're addicted to certainty
All there in the forecast
Chance of prying eyes
And bittersweet highs
White lies just because

I don't know what's good for me
A fiend of stumbling fantasies
Still singing clumsy lullabies
Till someone screams 'enough'
I tiptoed too carefully
A walking sunk cost fallacy
With every living alibi
Afraid of showing up