Overheard during family therapy — rather classic, actually… [Intro — low, close, cold] Two ties. Blue. Black. Choose. No, no. Not that one. Obviously. [Verse 1] You put them both before me and politely call it choice. Then wait until I touch one before changing your voice. If I take blue, black was wiser. If I take black, blue had grace. And somehow every little failure has my fingerprints and face. If I ask: “Which one?” you tell me I should know you better by now. If I choose without assistance, I have failed you somehow. [Pre-Chorus] So this is not about the necktie. Let us finally be clear. You do not need the proper answer. You need me to be wrong from here. [Chorus — hard, furious] Inexhaustible. Your reasons I am wrong are inexhaustible. Move the line after I cross it. Change the question when I’m done. Give me two doors, then condemn me for believing either one. Inexhaustible. You always keep one verdict in reserve: whatever I choose, whatever I give, I get exactly what I deserve. According to you. Of course. [Verse 2] If I speak, I’m too aggressive. If I’m quiet, I withdraw. If I stay, I suffocate you. If I leave, I break the law. If I offer you affection, I am asking for applause. If I give you room to breathe, that proves I never cared because— there is always one more meaning you can manufacture later. You remain the final witness, judge, translator, legislator. And I stand there with two neckties like an idiot on trial, while you discover new indictments with that reasonable little smile. [Pre-Chorus] No, this is not misunderstanding. Misunderstanding can be cleared. This is keeping one conclusion permanently prepared. [Chorus — harder] Inexhaustible. Your reasons I am wrong are inexhaustible. Move the line after I cross it. Change the question when I’m done. Give me two doors, then condemn me for believing either one. Inexhaustible. You always keep one verdict in reserve: whatever I choose, whatever I give, I get exactly what I deserve. According to you. Of course. [Bridge — spoken-sung, stripped to bass and guitar] Here is the trick. There is no right tie. There never was. Because if there were, I might eventually choose it. And then what would happen to your throne? You would have to say: “Yes. That was right.” You would have to surrender the little privilege of correcting me. Terrifying. So keep the blue one. Keep the black one. Keep the mirror. I am leaving the fitting room. [Verse 3] I do not need to win this argument. I do not need to prove you wrong. I am tired of auditioning for the right to belong. You can keep your moving targets. Keep your retrospective laws. Keep explaining my intentions better than I ever was. I will wear the tie I choose now. Maybe ugly. Maybe bright. Maybe I will wear no bloody tie and still sleep well tonight. Because love is not an examination where the questions change by need. And being close to someone does not mean they get to own what things mean. [Final Chorus — roaring] Inexhaustible. Yes, the accusations were inexhaustible. Every answer had a trapdoor. Every kindness had a flaw. Every choice became exhibit for some private higher law. But not tonight. Not anymore. Here is one thing you cannot revise: I know what I chose. I know why I chose it. And I no longer need your eyes to tell me whether I was right. [Outro — low, dry] Two ties. Blue. Black. Choose. I did. And for once, your opinion came too late.
