Comfort

I was so much more comfortable there with that blanket over my eyes.
It was so much warmer. But now I feel the cold and I can see the world for miles,
and comfort is just convenience and the putting-off of things I know to be true.
So we could have lain in that bed I built and made mountains from the sheets,
but I watched your chest raise and lower to let in ships, I watched mine sit in piece.
I know something about finding out. Its the curse of the thirst for knowledge.
I’ve seen clouds on fire and buildings fall. I’ve had planes crash in my mind.
I made it for the better even though it should have been for the worst.
I sat in those white rooms and I filled myself with words.
Words don’t move buildings, not mine anyway,
but they could inspire giants to lay this town to waste.
I was so much more comfortable there, in between those sheets,
but comfort is an illusion and now I can finally see.