the languid this rock is the water it touches the surface to crack and turn round no idle reflections to mute my perfection but shrink and blow all the way down here s what i see what came down is too easy reflections to crumble or turn round here s what i need but be proud it s too early for nothing to work out somehow tied down to the easels to lean against greater times one where the theories are there no eager commitment to place the indifferent shoot all the feelings that came here s what i see what came down is too easy reflections to crumble or turn round here s what i need but be proud it s too early for nothing to work out somehow here s what i see what came down is too easy reflections to crumble or turn round here s what i need but be proud it s too early for nothing to work out somehow i am no breadwinner i have no hands leading me somewhere confront my daily lie it s grown from frail to delirium