Aperture

Happiness is somewhere I have been before-

A blurry photograph that I have since ignored.

I'll carefully adjust the aperture once more,

Until I set the record straight.

I'll brush aside the dim, make room for the bright.

I'll be an editor, no, a curator of light.

I'll let my better angels always set me right,

Until I even out the score.

Until I even out the score.

God, it has been quite a year-

I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more.

I know that I've asked it before,

But please let the scale tip here in my favor.

What was once the sweetest melody I've heard

Is now a memory reduced to little words.

I'll tune the orchestra and play the overture,

Until I pinpoint every note.

Give me the heart of an archeologist,

That I may dig until I prove that I exist.

A subterranean cathedral in my midst,

Where echos come to rest.

Where echos come to rest.

Is this where echos come to rest?

God, it has been quite a year-

I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more.

I know that I've asked it before,

But please let the scale tip here in my favor.

Until I set the record straight,

Until I set the record straight,

Until I can set the record straight.