A sugar scented sinful message That everyone saw through Now subterfuge and Manhattan blues Seem to dictate my mood
I've counted blessings while confessing I have some to spare Beg or borrow, swallow sorrow I have come prepared It's a rite of passage It's a torch to carry When you feel the damage And it's extraordinary
The oscillating toll it's taking on everyone involved We'll find connections through extensions to not feel so alone It's an initiation conducted at bedside To a steady beat to help keep time
We're all focused on holding onto all that we have got While we're drifting slowly and And posing holy for all that we are not
I've counted blessings while confessing I have some to spare Beg or borrow, swallow sorrow I have come prepared
