Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
My friend Z told me the other day
He never cared about public figures growin’ up
I asked him if he ever respected
“Anyone he’d never met”
He answered in hypotheticals
I know the categories
The “everyday heroes”
The unsung
Victims
“Fuck yes,” I still cheer inside of me
“Fuck yes” is the tattoo with a home in me
Taylor Swift:
Who’s afraid—of little old me?
But now I’m like wait—“But some of us are just”
Born into this: “We’re, like, born to be famous”
Born to be iconic: “Born to be unforgettable”
It’s not really our fault, if we’re helplessly heresied
I know the categories
The “unsung good ones”
The fallen
Victims
“Fuck yes,” I still cheer inside of me
“Fuck yes,” I have tattooed law-abidin’ me
Taylor Swift:
Who’s afraid—of little old me?
But I know we’re just born into this
(Born to not know what any of us carry)
Yet I know we’re just born to end all war, and all slavery
Yet I know we were just adorned into this
(“Adorned to not know nothin’ but what our ayes do inherit”)
Yet I know we’re just born to end all war
Lift all braveries
I know nobody likes “the grandiose”
What you like is the person you love the most
Who never totalized you
(Who you ever met)
I know nobody likes the über-morose
What you prefer is the honesty you felt the most
Embolden showboats
(Into life’s strongest bets)
With helpers, I like thinkers
With completionists; I was brainwashed
With obsessives, I like tinkerers
With abolitionists—help, I’m backlogged!
I know the categories
The “everyday heroes”
The unsung
Fallen
“Fuck yes,” I still cheer inside of me
“Fuck yes” is the pinnacle with a home in me
I know the categories
The “unsung good ones”
The fallen
Victims
“Fuck yes,” I do cheer inside of me
Fuck yes is the diamond that prisms me
Taylor Swift:
Who’s afraid—of little old me?
But Z, you and I—we’re in the Bible now
So what can we do? All my friends and I
Are now “unconsensual neo-Biblical figures”
Why’d I get my way into this?
(I pray—every day)
Why’d I will my world into this?
(I wait, I wade…)
I don’t even know how to make myself braver
“I don’t even know how to better behave,” or
Cut through any of my temperamental bravura
Memorizin’ the aesthetics that affixed the ancestral
Mesmerized by the creaks inside T and I’s floorboards
I know the categories
The “everyday heroes”
The unsung
(The non-whispered)
Sacred yes, I still exhale
Inhalin’ Her, inhalin’ Her
Taylor Swift:
So tell me everything is not about me
But what if it is?
Sacred is the public
I wandered to altars…
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