we stood there conversing on that chipped stairwell
sharing poetry, music, artifacts of our corresponding hells
and I asked if you'd ever created from a dream
and you said, always but they never turn out like they
felt on that screen

finding a muse in your aptitude I said
why don't we combine and connect... what's to lose?
and so you showed me your art and I fell for you
then you deconstructed all I wanted to do
as two

they say that a penny lying in the street
is some kind of good fortune, some kind of guarantee
but to me it's just the opposite of finding good luck
to me it's someone else's luck you're
picking up

so don't steal from me what I gave to you
don't you ask for love and then
hate what I do
don't reach out your hands only to
pull them away
no no don't you take all of your presence away

why don't I adorn some manner in a way that you'd approve
why don't you articulate all the places I'm supposed to move
and mold my life just as you see fit
or maybe I could leave and not get treated like shit

but wouldn't that be in contrast to what I admit?
yeah I bet that would contradict my ready spirit

so maybe you touched my art
maybe you held my hand
maybe we found some common ground
and now I can't just
understand and move away from two
or maybe you can't too
I don't know so let's just go
here's a penny
good luck to you