Zen

Maybe it’s because I’m a September baby like all the big hearts
But the pain I’ve drowned sometimes comes back to haunt me
Like drops in the shower that never let me sleep
Or like the ones I take to not mess up too much at the shows
I want to fly light thinking it’s a game and in the end, you lose
Pretend I’m wood between gold and platinum 'cause that way I’ll burn
Being competitive doesn’t matter if you know you’re competent
'Cause music stays, but clothes, money, and cars don’t

And I’d even sell my soul to the devil
If he could find a bit of peace for me
Gift me your angel eyes
That I wear to find my zen

I’m in the studio and you’ve gone to France to study
You joke and say there’s a guy you like (Whatever, it’s cool)
But if you’re into French guys, just know I could
Even read Baudelaire or lose the world war
Today I don’t want charts, numbers, ticket sales, royalties, brands
I’d like to fool myself into thinking I’m there playing just for you
You say those who sleep don’t catch fish, but there’s some fish in the face, huh-huh
That between fakes and posers it’s tough to reach zen
See Pinguini Tattici Nucleari Live
Get tickets as low as $58

And I’d even sell my soul to the devil
If he could find a bit of peace for me
Gift me your angel eyes
That I wear to find my zen

(Find my zen)
(Find my zen)

The song snippets you put in your stories
To explain your feelings to idiots like me
I mark them on my skin, tie them around my wrists
Like big red maples in my zen garden

And I’d even sell my soul to the devil
If he could find a bit of peace for me
Gift me your angel eyes
That I wear to find my zen

(Huh-huh-huh, oh-oh)
I wear them to find my zen
(Huh-huh-huh, oh-oh)
I wear them to find zen