What I wouldn't give for sharper pencils, no eraser
And for the little pieces to fall magically in place
So I don't cut off edges with what's broken from my heart
And press them in and work them out at a shaky-handed pace.
What I wouldn't give for all my questions to be swallowed
By a fuzzy, knotty sweatshirt with a mustard stain on front
And I'd never reason out of all it's warmth and objectivity
And never wonder why it doesn't smell like what I thought.
If dull is what you're after,
You can have this pencil when I'm done
But if you'd like to place a tag on unrequited dreams
I'll take mine in small/petite,
Just keep your answers short and sweet
And give me endless seas of crispy pages, no frayed edges, please.
And for the little pieces to fall magically in place
So I don't cut off edges with what's broken from my heart
And press them in and work them out at a shaky-handed pace.
What I wouldn't give for all my questions to be swallowed
By a fuzzy, knotty sweatshirt with a mustard stain on front
And I'd never reason out of all it's warmth and objectivity
And never wonder why it doesn't smell like what I thought.
If dull is what you're after,
You can have this pencil when I'm done
But if you'd like to place a tag on unrequited dreams
I'll take mine in small/petite,
Just keep your answers short and sweet
And give me endless seas of crispy pages, no frayed edges, please.
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