The problem isn't a lack of imagination
More a lack of application
So carve up the face and forget the name
Believe neither story and tear up the page
My ears ring like a broken record
My heart skips like a telephone
You pull my words from between the lines
I the pull the marrow out from the bone
Im having a hard time finding
New things to yell about
When I cant keep a smile off my face
We make room in our shallow graves
We welcome our pretty imprisonment
Just like we envisioned it
Do tell telephone.