Doted on like seeds planted in rows
The untied shoelaces of your life
Nurtured all year and then pressed in a book
Or displayed in bad taste at the table
Problems arise and you fan the fire
While there's a wild pack of dogs loose in your house tonight.
Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
Add it up and basically people don't change
They just talk and make plans in the dark
Or make haste with ideas that can't help but creep good people out
As you talk to me, too much you're assuming
We don't always want what's right.

Did I strike the right set of chords? You're annoyed
The goal is to ignite you then move on.
You feel ill at ease, you got no squeeze
And the wise cracks won't make you more stable.
You've learned your lines to scale and to time
Why must I remind you that I'm only less able
Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
We're ordinary people we can't help but to change
As we walk and make plans in the dark
Or make haste with ideas that can't help but creep good people out
As you talk to me too much you're assuming
We don't always want what's right.

Two fallen saplings in an open field
Snow padding gently on an empty bench
An old woman's jewelry lying unadorned
Colonesting robins allied for the first time
I know when you read these sappy lines
You'll roll your eyes and say, "nice try."

Pressed in a Book by The Shins