Grade – Twenty Moons lyrics

with broken arms,
a nasty note and a dead rat,
I carry with me
her suspension of disbelief
why can't I be the genius
who solved the greatest
problems of his time
am I even beyond
metaphorical assistance
why must I be a paint brush
when we need a wrench
her arrival at the correct velocity
in order to perceive
has been cancelled, and filed away
this abstraction shall
repeat in sequence