I Am Not a Psychic - Swordplay

I am not a psychic

And this is not your ordinary love song

There wasn’t any sign, it was out of my control

But you’re back into the dirt now, no one could predict this

Well, I wish it wasn’t you, and I wish it wasn’t so

I wish it wasn’t all so simple

But it is, and it’s one hell of a gut spill

It’s unsettling: unidentified sirens, nullified free will

Meting out process, mummified concepts

Now death is a couple clocks off

You left us meddling with trivial prizes and an unsurprising loss

I can see the outcome but cannot describe it

I am not a psychic, all I do is sing

I am not a prophet, I am not a king

I am not your third eye, I am not a thing

I’m another man’s strategy in a Hobson’s choice

Just a bad path, Colin jumps off the balcony

But the fact of the matter is this is not the only bad path that’s happening

I see a mundane misery where I get up like it’s nothing

Although it’s 5AM and every day the same rain keeps coming

Nothing to figure out, but at least I got my coffee

I am a one-line drawing, disconnected at the spot where the stencil popped up

As the paper under it suddenly shifted

See me pulling at the lights

In the blood moon, I’m coming for my pension

I am not a psychic

Inside of me there’s a bypass mechanism, I get triggered often

I am an idiot, I’m running out of options

I’m in the wheat fields cutting off attachments

This honeysuckle tucked up under my tongue cos I’m all outta fucks

The lunatic is on the grass, and I’m coming up close

As I fumble through my jacket pockets for cash

And there’s not a thing with me but the memory I wear on my brow

It escalated quickly

We were changing, and I’m barely recognizable now

I’m a cleaned-out gallery

Nothing of value, I auctioned off all I had to offer

Without a thought it took all of me

It threw me on the ground, and it tried to me make me break

The mistake of the century

Still in the midst of its making

Go on try to stop it, not many would dare

You’ll try another remedy

Exacerbated by the thoughts and prayers, it’s all talk

Cos modern society is such an unwelcoming place

Where it’s frowned upon to walk around with flowers in your hair

And everyone’s an enemy but no one really cares

Tell me, there anybody out there?

I can settle for the Delphic

I’m in need of advice

And I am not a psychic

Someone, tell me what’s next but I bet it’s gonna be another crisis

In the dream world, I find myself struggling

To bring into focus another face

Now give it to me straight.

What’s the right move?

And which is the mistake?

I am not a psychic.

I can see the future

But time is moving backwards inside of a computer

I am a computer

Everything that’s happened will happen in the future

If it even happens, it’s happening in pieces

Someone, tell the processor to delete this or maybe just

Print another path this time

It’s a best guess, a window into the past

The past is uncertain.

It’s hard to prove it happened

I lost the information

And the past is a fiction except on paper copies

I am not a medium, I do not know what happened

You can take me to the garret and I’ll paint it nice and pretty

But I do not like excitement

I can show you what I mean, I can put in a poem

I can put in a riddle but I still am not a psychic