Metronome Confession

(ahhhh) Four walls and a flicker of the overhead tube

Writing down the parts of me I never show to you

I rehearse the laughter,

I polish up the spine

But the ink behaves much better when it stays inside the line (mm-hmmm)

There is a shadow that I trade with the light

And a quiet house I keep in the middle of the night

No more performing, no more taking the stage Just the metronome ticking

on the edge of the page

I trust this paper more than faces in the hall

They want the painted portrait hanging on the wall

So I give them what they ask for,

every single time

While the true shape of my breathing stays between the rhyme (yeah)

There is a shadow that I trade with the light

And a quiet house I keep in the middle of the night

No more performing, no more taking the stage

Just the metronome ticking on the edge of the page

Just the notebook on the desk

Under fluorescent light (shhh)