An Unexpected Visit to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

Whose job is it to tip the scales
When the weight of the world is heavy as hell?
And what's with the laughter and why is it dark?
Not a single hotel in Upstate New York

And so you hit your journal with a mini golf pencil
About that time we saw the shadows in your window
About that package that your landlord thought was a bomb
About Zadie, Kingston, sex, medication and dawn

But you're so
Afraid of yourself
That you're too scared
To ask for help

Yeah, we met your grandma at the Gardner
And then I showed you all of my old apartments
We headed South down 91
And got a motel outside of New Haven

The first room that they tried putting us in
Had luggage full of cash and decks of heroin
And the second one's dead-bolted from the inside
It made Jersey seem like we'd gone to heaven then died

But you're so
Afraid of yourself
That you're too scared
To ask for help
Now don't you be so
Afraid of yourself
That you're too scared
To ask for help

I know that you scare yourself
All the time
You scare me, too.

I swore to the god that I don't believe in
There's no way that you're getting me to Cleveland
I guess prayer was my first mistake
Second one was the moment I relied on faith

And as you shook from all the snowballing guilt and fear
I acquiesced and West you steered
You looked at me half awake and then you said
"We never went to Arthur Ave"

You squeezed my arm
As you played god
You squeezed my arm
As you played god
You squeezed my arm
As you played god
You squeezed my arm
As you played god