smudge on the lens

You're not the first to tell me this

Maybe I should work on it

I'm ashamed of my redundancy

But I truly love the normalcy

Of waking up with nothing planned

A ticking clock, an empty hand

Sweet, logical you

You don't have to solve me, too

Tell me what am I even here for?

If I'm not shiny and new anymore

I'm afraid you'll tire of this day-to-day

Of calling when you know I have nothing new to say

I'm standing in a rush of hearts and minds

A smudge on the lens in lapse-time

And you can ask, but I'm gonna lie

And I apologize for my dead-eyed disposition

You can blame the insomnia on nostalgia streaked with desperation

Can't look in the mirror, can't look on the floor

Both draped in the clothes of a corpse

So keep all the cards and take care of the flowers

'Cause they're just reminders of how

Easy it is for everyone else

You're not the first to tell me this

Maybe I should work on it