just a few things...

there are a few lyrics that just seem to say something they never said before.

This is no great illusion;
when I’m with you I’m looking for a ghost or invisible reasons
to fall out of love and run screaming from our home.
__

But you are what you love,
and not what loves you back.
That’s why I’m here on your doorstep,
pleading for you to take me back

And the phone is a fine invention—it allows me to talk endlessly to you,
about nothing, disguising my intentions,
which I’m afraid, my friend, are wildly untrue.
It’s a sleight of hand, a white soul band,
the heart attacks I’m convinced I have
every morning upon waking.
To you I’m a symbol or a monument,
your rite of passage to fulfillment,
but I’m not yours for the taking

But you are what you love,
and not what loves you back.
So I guess that’s why you keep calling me back.

I’m fraudulent, a thief at best,
a coward who paints a bullshit canvas;
things that will never happen to me.