A loose thread on my sleeve, just a single strand Pulls at my attention, a silent command I try to tuck it in, a neat and careful move But one pull leads to another, losing all the groove The cello plucks a rhythm, precise and low Mirroring the tension, watch the fabric start to go.
My fingernail is jagged, a microscopic peak Disturbing the perfection that my calm hands seek I bite it, then I tear it, just a little bit more Ignoring all the warnings, like I’ve done before The trumpet's muted crying, a subtle, urban plea While I'm dissecting flaws that only I can see.
Just a Loose Thread, a speck of Dust in my eye Building up a mountain underneath a perfect sky Pizzicato obsession, a silent, funny fight Destroying little pieces, just to make them feel all right Yeah, I’m the architect of my own petty blight.
A tiny speck of dust on my polished wooden desk Ignored by the masses, but for me, it's a grotesque I swipe it, then I smear it, making things much worse A tiny imperfection, a self-inflicted curse The piano chords shimmer, a cool, indifferent sound As my perfect little world comes tumbling to the ground.
This precise routine, it’s my daily, silent art Tearing down the edges, breaking things apart Maybe I just love the chaos, hidden in the neat The symphony of ruin, oh, so bittersweet.
"Just one more..."
