Not Too Colored Perfect

They built a hero out of expectations and what a hopeless
hero was he
with sticks for legs he shook when the wind blew, even
slightly
and he welcomed the smiles, he welcomed the applause
and he hoped that they'd never forget just who they thought
he was
they dressed him up in rich man s clothes and told him he
was beautiful
then they expected miracles
His parents were pleased they went to all the parties
he was groomed for greatness from the time he was young
raised on a diet of television he was taught to listen, kept
dumb
and he welcomed desire and reckless luxury
and the world soaked up every drop of drama and insecurity
they dressed him up in rich man s clothes and told him he
was beautiful
then they expected miracles
and then one day his admirers just quit him
they packed up their paint and were gone
and he stood alone, their beautiful disaster, wondering were
he'd gone wrong
and he wanted the smiles and he wanted the applause
but no one would look him in the eye now, no one returned his
calls
they dressed him up in rich man's clothes and told him he
was beautiful
then they expected miracles

I remember crowds where you stand alone right now
I remember celebrations
But now my reign has run all the color from all my decorations
And I'm fine; I'm just a little lonely
So can I ride on your back for a time?
Oh, the seasons change so quickly these days
And while the rest in their new coats and new hats shiver in
their beds
You stand outside and watch the clouds go by in the same
clothes I met you in

You're smiling but I sense fear when you say, abandon ship
and there's land near
And the water is deep around my knees, but still I don't
believe.
At another time I would have followed you anywhere, but not
now
You said I was a shackle to you, well you always say the most
violent things, my dear.
You're smiling as you climb into another idea of what it
means to be you
And I'm supposed to follow and I'm not supposed to mind that
you keep leaving me behind.
You said that I was a shackle to you well you always say the
vilest things, my dear.

Well, it's late at night.
There's nobody around.
Just the sounds of the cars
Upon the asphalt ground.
It's the waiting time,
When the hours grow still.
I gaze on through the glass
Inside my windowsill.
Though I know that you must be
Somewhere in this world,
In this place where, at birth,
You and I were both hurled,
To think that we once were relating
Is a thing that has almost grown foreign to me.

It's a bad sight,
Such a terrible waste,
To spend your time talking
In such bad taste.
It's the same old line,
Though it's not you I blame.
It's your teachers and television
That you put to shame.
The night's lasting longer
Because I've filled my head
With the things I could have done
And the words I could have said.
But, in truth, I was only spectating
And that's a permanent part of reality.

So many rude lines,
So many petty crimes
And you don't feel a need
To apologize.
Tonight is the time
That you stick in my mind,
But from now on I won't become
Vandalized.

Now the room's started filling
With the dawn's early light
And the end has arrived
Of this long night.
I turn off the television
And I hit the bed
While your shade is still haunting
My ever-vulnerable head.
And there's no use
In trying to compromise
When the kindest things we say
But it's time I should quit my complaining
And behave with a little more dignity.

So many rude lines,
So many petty crimes
And you don't feel a need
To apologize.
Tonight is the time
That you stick in my mind,
But from now on I won't become
Vandalized.

when the leaves have changed,
when the world around you starts to grow deranged,
the faces that you see are looking strange,
and your principles have all been rearranged,
when only tears remain,
in the residue the ruins of your brain.
start looking for a way you can explain,
though the reasons should've made themselves quite plain.
and then you'll think of me,
in the moment when we'd almost broken free.
your mind will start its drifting wistfully,
to the corner of your heart nobody sees.