Testo Pneumonia

I have this problem where I'm already measuring how you'll react
Before I even finish what I was gonna say
I dance around my thoughts like they're a fire
And if I order my steps in just the right sequence I could make it rain

And it isn't a joke, or some poem I wrote
It's the shadow tracing back to every word I spoke
Burn brighter, if you can't fix the house that you were born into Well, put a match to work and see what fire can do

Cut cleaner, if the hanging fray causes you to cling to the old
ways and means and methods then the knife was too dull
And so the lesson becomes how you fix a problem
Can yield a grimmer consequence than what you kept from

I have found this
I have found this

A full measure shaken down, spilled over was the cup I had drawn
Took me one little tumble and the thing was half gone
Half-full is a fool's assessment when the ledger is red
And the deficit is only ever making ahead
And though a slow motion spill looks real cool in a film
In either case the result is typically a mess

I have found this

My soul held a measure and the ledger was null
My feet found a dry place to count in the cold
It's all coming due now

I felt my sorrow pulling in on the fabric of days
All of time bunched up, converging like a senator's blade
And my mind raced over all of everything that happened then
But it halted at the thought of things about to begin

'Cause my mind held a ledger and my credits were full
When my feet set to walking out all too alone
And my heart held a ledger and my credits were full
When my feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold

Now how about one goes on one's own
Saying "hey babe, this place ain't so cold"
Well don't you know, there's only one of ya
You just might end up with pneumonia

And about how one might slow one's roll
To an amount down to faking control
Well I guess that would depend on it
The kind of time you want to spend on it

Stand-offing often pays off, but I am pondering well
Might be stepping down wasn't really so low
When my feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold
And my lungs were full

Praise be to the father forever
Who can take a dead thing and make it green
Only ever restoring

My soul held a ledger and he paid it in full
When my root was a dead snag left in the cold
Then the drums kicked in
And I was spilling out some feverish thing

But the amps were cranked up so loud
Well, I didn't think you'd hear
How about them something or others I had seemed to say
Well maybe listen closer and I'll try to sing clear

My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full
When my feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold
My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full
Consequences of grandstanding in the cold

And when it comes to gallows humor it's a slippery slope
You see you never ask a hangman to show you the ropes
I know you meant it as a "ha ha ha"
You just might end up with a twiney collar

Now about how one goes on one's own
Saying "hey babe, this place ain't so cold"
Well don't you know there's only one of ya
You'll only end up with pneumonia