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P.S. Eliot
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Crosseyed
your eyes go crossed like mine
you'll regret that when you're older
carefully sutured pride
and a chip on your shoulder
and i think maybe i'm better
i think maybe i'm better off
my wit goes limp again
maybe there's something about you
we circle a sanctum
and avoid the lucent break through
take planes and trains and 95 straight up
subdued sentiment
planes and trains and 95 straight up
this just feels fitting
i cross out these memories of sanctity
i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing
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i choose this immunity that consumes me
i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing
your eyes open wide
in an open-handed effort
our strong minds can collide
without this vigilance we exert
and i think maybe i'm content
i think maybe i'm complacent
i cross out these memories of sanctity
i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing
i choose this immunity that consumes me
i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing
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