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P.S. Eliot
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Troubled Medium
hollowed out between the places to go
there might be something there but you know i don't know
and i think we both find comfort
in the reckless exterior
because its 3 a.m. again and we're both still awake
our senses shut off for simplicity's sake
we both have a way with words but the silence sounds much better for tonight
i'm sorry for the mess, you see my mind is somewhere else
we revel in obscurity, surmount when we dwell
now you're making coffee in an unfamiliar house
indulge in frailty, looking for a way out
and temperance engulfs your mind every time our aversion intertwines
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it's early morning and we're both wide awake
kind of nostalgic but clearly a mistake
we connect through detachment
we prosper in a troubled medium
i'm sorry for the mess, you see my mind is somewhere else
we revel in obscurity, surmount when we dwell
and i'm not oppressed, i bring it all on myself
and i'm sorry for the trouble, you see my mind, it's somewhere else,
it's somewhere else, it's somewhere else, it's somewhere else,
it's somewhere else
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