The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit

After sundown, before sleeping
I am the worst of me, I am a mess of these
Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams
Whisper seductively and stage scenes

It's fear fiction, these visions
Caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy
What I haven't done, what I've wanted to
And what I fear you have becomes reality here

Bright lights in the young night keep to the beat
A classic party scene, crowded and interesting
No love, no life, no history
Just touch, just chemistry, just

A roaring undercurrent simple and sensory
Young bodies, warm skin, perfect symmetry and
It's a moment, harmless, it's energy
It's like medicine, it's self-discovery

See, all the secrets I keep, why are they secrets?
It's only temporary, that fleeting feeling of warmth
Just a flash before the line gets blurry
Between a longing for more than what the body wants now
And what the body wants now more than anything?

Was it integrity that kept my hands to myself
Or just the thought of getting too far ahead of you?
Was it that I got too tired of the consequence?
Or was I just scared?

I only know I never wanted to get left behind

No pauses, not a second guess
First a swaying then a stumble then a swagger
They're just movements towards feeling
It doesn't matter, neither hesitates to carry on a kind of energy

Sweat and block out everything to
Find every aperture and compel the animal parts
Fan flames, taste fruit, taste bitter fruit
Just trying to learn how all the wires in the body work

Just trying to feel it out, it's like medicine
Find the healing in whatever bed they end up in

I want to feel it out, I want to know how it works
I want to know if it was worth it to worry
About the ghosts I feared would haunt the memory
About the damage that I'm sure the fear has done to me now

I want to know what it is in me that won't follow through
Those nights the instinct takes a hold of me and pushes too
Maybe it's only that I've never gotten over you
Or am I still scared?

I see the church steps, a vision
Is there fiction in this one too?
It's true, I've made a tale of it here
Still, it's a little unclear who's been haunting who
And time can be such a funny thing, always moving to the future
Glorifying the past and amplifying the pain in frames and glass

So was our touch half as sacred as I've made it seem
Or just another fabrication of a half-dream?
Just those chemicals, the adolescent love
Just us trying to grasp onto meaning, onto a purpose
Onto a sense that something spiritual releases when the feeling hits
And when the feeling hits

And in that moment sparks and harps play out
A sweeping melody through fog and fantasy
And in that moment there's an honesty instinctive and pure
But it departs like it came, rapid and bearing no more

Than fleeting ecstasy of natural harmony
They fear the notes being played and try to sing along
Don't be ashamed, be free to the feeling
Don't be ashamed, keep feeling

But find it: a body that makes sense
I've felt it