His Story

[Intro]

I'm noble

Often found in the quiet hands of people from all walks

Rich, poor, humble, or grand

A treasure for those who explore far and wide

I carry their fortunes with wealth as my guide

I speak of great cities, power, and fame

Or honour divine in a more sacred name

The wise cherish my silent way of revealing knowledge in truth, without ever speaking

Though many chase after the path I've paved, sometimes the footprints I leave can fade

Who am I?

[Verse 1]

Today, I'm sixteen years old

I have half of a ham sandwich in my pocket

I forget my phone number

I remember instead the etymology of the word 'person'

The snowflakes falling on my face feel like ambulances

I realise, that if I was to die here, nobody would know for a really long time

Because of the largeness of this least likely of all possible worlds

On the drive out, we don't see anything for hours

Not a single thing, living or dead

Just a road going through an endless desert

With grey mountains in the distance, that never get closer

For some reason, I sing Christmas carols to myself and cry without tears

What am I doing here?

What is that car doing there, and why is it on fire?

My friend, whose name I've forgotten, and who I think has since moved on, is recording a video for his wife

He is describing everything he sees as if he's seeing it for the first time in his life

Out of the blue, he tells me that he thinks she is sleeping with her ski instructor

I decide then, that I should become a ski instructor

I smoke a cigarette, and feel the future with my nose

It is still attached to my face

I see long nights in cheap hotels

I hear quotes taken out of context

I see laughter and loneliness

I see boredom and anxiety

I must stop being a ghost

I must sneak back onto Earth

I don't like the fact that God moves in mysterious ways

Today, I am nineteen years old

Julio comes up to me in a club in Paris and tells me that the sky is blue, and the dead are coming back to life

[Verse 2]

He goes back to the bathroom to do more coke

And his girlfriend, whose father produces a very popular film franchise, asks me if I wanna sleep with her

I feel disgusted

I am twelve years old, in a long ballroom full of people older than me

They are staring at me and clapping

I climb down off the stage

My cousin Chris finds me, and gives me my first cigarette, and laughs, and ruffles my hair, and tells me that a man that likes to lie down is happy, and brags about all the money he's making

I am the pizza and gravy from my school cafeteria

I am the burger bar coleslaw

For where is my tree?

Where exactly is the window in my prison cell?

I dream, but when I wake, will I still be here?

Am I the chihuahua walking on the plates and glasses on my table

Will I eat cucumber salad tomorrow?

Is that why I'm so happy?

Today I feel old

Today I sat in the sun and told myself secrets I won't remember

Today, it is possible to survive