I dreamed up the maps,
Give me charcoal and the paper now.
We invent paths they cannot see,
And they're to scared walk.
Between my hands rests 52 plain old playing cards,
And i trapped god somewhere between
The trump and the kind of hearts.
Joni mitchell said "we are stardust,
We are golden", we are all the same.
Blood paints the story of our love,
Across the bathroom floor towards the drain.
Funny how everything just piles up, till one day,
You can't believe how far you came.
I'm made of mountains, made of metal,
Made of whiskey, and waves!
You won't believe your own breath,
When the bold words finally escape your mouth.
Keep your secrets hidden,
Till we're certain of just what we've found.
Yeah, they bleed just like us,
But our calling is what shapes us now.
We won't be held back, won't be tied up,
We won't be pinned down, not now.
I dreamed up the maps,
Give me charcoal and the paper now.
We invent paths they cannot see,
And they're to scared walk.
Between my hands rests 52 plain old playing cards,
And i trapped god somewhere between
The trump and the kind of hearts.
It came to me, as strange as it seems,
From a simple deck of cards laid ace to kings.
With my fingernail slipped under king charlemagne,
I flipped the edge and traced the grain,
And watched it fall like a breaking wave.
The ace of spades was last to splash.
Trump to suicide kings, they all turned bicycle backs.
I stared in the pattern, a pair of seraphim flashed,
And it just fit, elegant, "aww shit!". that's that.
Its strange how you can waste away pained with one thing,
The watchmaker breaks sweat, he can't tame a dumb spring.
Then one day its as plain as the nose above your smug grin,
Like, "look what the cat dragged in!"
Woke from a dream, hands heavy in cold sweat,
Jumped from the bed, snatched up charcoal quick.
Sketching frantically upon the bedroom brick,
It came together and it fit like this:
"give me a lever and a place to stand, i'll move the world"
You think you're clever, but you never, seen how it really works.
I dreamed up the maps,
Give me charcoal and the paper now.
We invent paths they cannot see,
And they're to scared walk.
Between my hands rests 52 plain old playing cards,
And i trapped god somewhere between
The trump and the kind of hearts.
