If I had been born one day earlier would I be more independent or just as offbeat?
That sort of thing matters to those of us who seek identity to feel complete
Or maybe we just think it's neat

And I can't stop thinking how all this is ending, how we know that they know it's ending real soon
Been too many seasons since we jumped the shark, a finale is well overdue
And this show's not getting renewed

So I went to take a picture of the things I don't wanna lose
But the sky was a color I couldn't break down into reds, greens, and blues

I hereby relinquish attachment to what people think of the things that I say or the way that I dress
It's all silhouetted up on the cave wall by the fire that burns in my chest
It all looks the same more or less

It's hard to feel good in a world that would rather you vanish completely or slip down the drain
So to make it make sense you let self sabotage rationale dig its hooks in your brain
And never let slip you're in pain

But the thin attractive twenty-somethings can't connect the clues
So I'll swallow my hate and I'll make something great out of reds, greens, and blues

There's a line between reading the room and divination
There's a line between biting your head off and honest self evaluation
There's a line between do what you can and do what you must
But what can I say I was born on the cusp

So I will build castles the size of my fears out of sharpies and post-it note, candles and flame
And in script that makes prominent use of a crucifix write out each one of their names
Sent up to their heavenly claim

All of our lives and our hopes and our failures are one little pixel on some great big screen
And we all do our part to make sure that it shines the right color in every new scene
A beautiful well oiled machine

It's an awful lot of pressure but what else is there to do?
Doesn't have to feel right, and I still dream at night of those reds, greens, and blues