Pneumonia

I have this problem where I'm already measuring how you'll react Before I even finish what I was gonna say I dance around my thoughts like they're a fire And if I order my steps in just the right sequence I could make it rain And it isn't a joke, or some poem I wrote It's the shadow tracing back to every word I spoke Well, burn brighter if you can't fix the house that you were born into And put a match to work and see what fire can do And cut cleaner if the hanging fray causes you to cling to the old Ways and means and methods then the knife was too dull And so the lesson becomes on how you fix a problem Can yield a grimmer consequence than what you kept from And I have found this And I have found this A full measure shaken down, spilled over was the cup I had drawn Took me one little tumble and the thing was half gone And half-full is a fool's assessment when the ledger is red And the deficit is only ever making ahead And though a slow motion spill looks real cool in a film In either case the result is typically a mess And I have found this My soul held a measure and the ledger was null My feet found a dry place to count in the cold And it's all coming due now I felt my sorrow pulling in on the fabric of days All of time bunched up, converging like a senator's blade And my mind raced over all of everything that happened then But it halted at the thought of things about to begin 'Cause my heart held a ledger and my credits were full My feet set to walking out alone My heart held a ledger and my credits were full My feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold Now about how one goes on one's own Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold." Well don't you know, there's only one of ya You just might end up with pneumonia And about how one might slow one's roll To an amount down to faking control Well I guess that would depend on it The kind of time you want to spend on it Stand-offing often pays off, but I am pondering well Might be stepping down wasn't really so low When my feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold And my lungs were full And praise be to the father forever Who can take a dead thing and make it green Only ever restoring My soul held a ledger and he paid it in full When my root was a dead snag out in the cold Then the drums kicked in And I was spilling out some feverish thing But the amps were cranked up so loud Well, I didn't think you'd hear And how about them something or others I had seemed to say Well maybe listen closer and I'll try to sing clear My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full My feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full Consequences of grandstanding out in the cold Now about how one goes on one's own Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold." Well don't you know there's only one of ya You just might end up with pneumonia And about how one might slow one's roll To an amount down to faking control Well I guess that would depend on it The kind of time you want to spend on it Now when it comes to gallows humor it's a slippery slope You see you never ask a hangman to show you the ropes I know you meant it as a "ha ha ha" You just might end up with a twiney collar And about how one goes on one's own Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold." Well don't you know there's only one of ya You just might end up with pneumonia Hey-ey!