Symmetry's for the stars
Lop-sided is what you are
A grimace beneath a smirk
A body of work
A shovel in the ground
Frame it all way 'round
The perforated sound of the crunch
The lifting and the breath
Melt into that form
One-sided depth,
Til that's the norm
Til you're walking with a limp
That you can't explain
Hands fully crimped
Eyes constantly strained
Symmetry's for the stars
Lop-sided is what you are
A grimace beneath a smirk
A body of work
The right hand holds the pen
The left wrist tells me when
I've got til I pretend to quit to quit
But those strange little gears they turn
No candle can outburn
They're none of your concern until they fit
This not your zone
No abdicated throne
Why don't you find your own
To sit upon
Symmetry's for the stars
Try to explain
How your tongue and teeth and cheeks
How your mouth and lips and lungs
Form the words that you seek
You're a pretty little yard
With a hole in the fence
Every single scar
Speaks experience
Symmetry's for the stars
Lop-sided is what you are
A grimace beneath a smirk
A body of work
A grimace beneath a smirk
A body of work