I am sifting through this uncertain kind of debris
But wait, one second let me-before i continue with the story
I think we should do a little bit of deconstructing
I oughta tell you what i really mean when im using the word
When im saying there was this certain kind of debris
This is the kind this is this is a kind of debris that is inherently valuable
This this this this this is the kind of debris that i like looking at
Anyways, so what i saying,
There is this certain kind of debris in my chest
Telling myself all of these stories
Telling myself im not finished grieving
Though thats probably true i think im just scared to look at you
And what if i dont feel like i love you
And what if i feel relieved that youre gone
What if i feel relieved that youre gone and then
I have to let go of these stories i told about our love.
About our love, there is this certain kind of debris
Its all changing
And then that makes me wonder
If i could even call it a certain kind of debris
Cuz we kinda view trash as this unmoving thing
But i saw it change
That means it could become something beautiful again.
Like compost for all the love in my life.
Now i till under myself
I find the weed the weed the weed