My best man knew me best
But time’s a stupid test
I’ve been stuck in the trees
Scared of scraping my knees

I could
Care less about that crowd
Live life like I don’t know how
So I’ll smoke what I know
Toke an alternate dope

I can’t
Wasting the time I’m renting for free
Forgetting my friends in humor I breed
All I don’t know is every I see
Row me on home

Help me, my freedom
There’s a happy museum
On the hill
Waiting for
A push on through
The revolving door

Happy museum
In the place all can see them
Pop the pill
Rain will pour
It’s dry on through
The revolving door

So what if we’re choosing our name
We’re given that perfect face
Swipe it right, try again
You’re an ace out of ten

Oh, but
I’ll hope for a miracle now
I know there’s no golden cow
They’re all hearts made of stone
Line it up, knock the cones

I’m done
Giving light to a perfect place
My heart’s not gonna give chase
‘Cause I’m broken and shunned
From the battles I’ve won

Oh, and
Maybe I’m meant for desperate things
The harder they hurt, the harder I cling
I say it out loud, I start to re-think
Maybe I’ve lost my sense for this thing

But there’s a happy museum
If you can’t join ’em, beat ’em
On the hill
Waiting for
A push on through
The revolving door

Happy museum
In the place all can see them
Pop the pill
Rain will pour
It’s dry on through
The revolving door

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a hard life out there. It’s a life of doubt, secrecy, and shadow. The only way it becomes that way, though, is after years of downtrodden optimism. To all you who feel the burden on your shoulders, take a day to feel that sunshine after the rain. Watch the cool, sparkling liquid, brought from the heavens, as it rolls off the leaves. Notice how the leaves slowly perk up, rejuvenated by the fresh water. The life it brings to the roots, the veins, the very soil, is what I feel when I look at the rain. I want you to try it out.