If you dance with the clouds
And speak of the flowers
Then everyone wants you around
If you lower your guard
And come join the table
Then everyone hands you the crown.
Can you bury your metaphors?
Candy coat the sermon.
No ideologies, please
Can you crawl on your set of fours?
Pain is predetermined…
Don’t diagnose the disease, please
Go on and sing a song
That your mother likes
Go on like nothings wrong
With you.
Sweep under the rug
All your suffering.
Pretend there’s nothing wrong.
Pretend there’s nothing wrong.
When you return to the village
Your story’s romantic
Give us a breathtaking fairytale.
When you pick up your paintbrush
Paint us a picture…
Leave out those other details.
Go on and sing a song
That your mother likes
Go on like nothings wrong
With you.
Sweep under the rug
All the suffering.
Pretend there’s nothing wrong.
Pretend there’s nothing wrong.
It’s awful.
But don’t turn the other way.
Turn the other way.
Turn the other way.