Revisionist

There's a tick in my membrane

Saying that he can get me fixed up.

He'll take care of everything and

Tell me I never loved anyone...

That I could steal ideas

That seem better than my own kind.

I drill where it sparks up,

Split through case and collagen.

Say something just to say something,

Make sure I didn't go too far in.

Now I'm replacing all these links in sequences.

It seems things are going my way,

But the picture's weak.

Everything's a copy that I'm copying.

Now the static creeps,

And it replaces you with who—

I hope I'm not a case study.

I hope they don't put my brain in a tank

And poke holes in the holes I've made.

I hope they don't find my memory tapes, because

I grow thorns on my tongue when I speak,

I grow burs on my lungs when I breathe,

I've been selling a pipe dream through my teeth, and now

I'm buying in because

It seems so nice

To reckon you're the good kind.

I reckon I'm a good time,

But I dug too deep.

I ripped up flowers when I wanted weeds.

Now the soil's clean,

And there's nothing left to see.

And the picture's weak.

Everything's a copy that I'm copying.

Now the static creeps,

And it replaces you with who I hoped you'd be.

All I see are photographs

With faces that don't match your heart at all.

I feel you leaving.

You're missing something.

You're fading quickly.

Oh god...

I'm only vapor.

A breeze across your lips.

No memory of this.