yeah yeah listen let it ride yeah let it ride let it ride yeah i'm not a prophet - i don't prophesize all the lies, and i despise what i hide behind green eyes though i emphasize what i criticize and rationalize in my open mind the shadows that hide and plagiarize - my good thoughts and try not to - abide the clouds forming in intrusive skies but one thing's for certain I am hurting and craving her flesh - in or out of curtains I'm learning that yearning ain't love just because it's burnin' and I've earned every scar from confusing the two I've been choosing the view then assuming it's true painting futures in hues with a woman who never knew she was my muse but one thing's for certain I am hurting and craving her flesh - in or out of curtains I'm learning that yearning ain't love just because it's burnin' that's amusing isn't it? how a mind can make intimate something still indefinite take an innocent interest then infinitely spin the shit till I'm living in images of a life that don't exist yet yeah- let it ride yeah [Breakdown] See- I can take a little maybe make it lately make it daily take a "hey" and make it weighty then debate me like I'm crazy when the whole damn conversation was a sentence and a "maybe" that's the way that my brain likes to play with the space in between what you mean what you say what I see what I think what I want it to be- shit. I'm three weeks deep in a three-second glance got a whole damn future from a half-assed chance already know how you laugh how you move when you dance while reality's standing there with its arms fucking crossed like- "Man." You don't know her. You know pieces. Little reasons little glimpses little features little moments you've been stitching into something with a pulse and lungs and feelings then believing what you're weaving while conveniently deleting every piece that doesn't fit the little fiction you've been feeding and the irony- I know. I KNOW. I can see myself doing it while I'm doing it ruining something that ain't even begun by pursuing it through a future that my head keeps producing and producing till the woman in my mind and the woman that she is ain't congruent so who's she competing with? Her? Or the version of her I invented? 'Cause that's a hell of an opponent when I wrote every component gave her everything I wanted then got lonely when the moment couldn't hold up to the poem that I wrote before I knew her God- maybe that's it. Maybe love ain't in the knowing every ending from the start maybe some things need the freedom to be exactly what they are maybe wanting ain't a warning maybe fear ain't always wise maybe butterflies don't need to be dissected every time maybe- I could just... let it ride yeah let it ride let it ride for once- just let it ride. I romanticize then I analyze then I analyze what I analyzed till the butterflies get dissected alive and I'm left with the parts trying to figure out why I can't just- let it ride yeah let it ride but one thing's for certain I am hurting and craving her flesh - in or out of curtains I'm learning that yearning ain't love just because it's burnin'
