[Lyric] But For The Honour Of The Pen (1000 Beasts)

[Verse]
Isn't it exhausting, love?
Living in between somber eyelifts to time stamps
The threads of opinions, the glazed logos travelling past our eyeballs
We barely see it anymore
The wasteful scrolling, the unrelenting thumb taps
The tasteless reasons for relaxation
The matted hair the never made weekend bed
The watching morning break through thin curtains
The seeing the searing sunup and simmering sundown
Without the sеxy hint of summer, in winter
It's a drag dawn to dusk
Barely lifting lazy hunchеs over a bottle of wine at the edge of your bed
The defeat in the morning that comes before we even punch in
The twirl of our wrist from one platform to the next
The late eating, the constant eating
The munchies, the not eating, the diet
The chocolate, for God's sakes, the chocolate
It's the restless nature of this individual, aimless
It's the artist breaking pencils like dents in our fingers weren't formed from it
It's the not learning from past brushstrokes
It's the not believing in the arch of the hand
The stiffness in the index
The softness of the palm
The landing of the paint
It's the not having a point they begin to end
It's the nothaving much to be exhausted by
But for the honour of the pen
To lay some truth on the mic, we're honestly not scared
We're not scared of the absence of light in our eyes
Just fearful of how attractive the dark is
How our pupils can scan it like a home
Don't worry about the springs in our steps
Or our toes cutting edge
We know, at least, how boxes work
Relearning it's scale in whatever note it pitches in black
And my, my, we darken comfortably
So, exhausted, here we rest