I like New Year’s, I like Mondays
I like firsts of the month
Notebook paper, wet cement
The moment’s never been touched
I like knowing that there’s something
That I haven’t messed up
‘Cause I will, and I do
And I’m supposed to

I am perfect, if by perfect
You mean totally flawed
I am wrestling with the presence
Of an all-knowing God
I drink caffeine even though
I always said I would not
So I’m weak, or a fool
But I’m supposed to

Be
That’s me

I rush the future, I cling to the past
I’m terrified the present will not last
I see the irony, I get the fact
It’s already gone
By the time that the thought
Has passed
I am working on it
Give me some grace
I like empty pages
I like Mondays

I like order, I like answers
Wrapped in ribbon and twine
I grab hold of unknown outcomes
‘Til my knuckles are white
I am trying to be kinder
To this body of mine
‘Cause it keeps me alive
Like it’s supposed to

I rush the future, I cling to the past
I’m terrified the present will not last
I see the irony, I get the fact
It’s already gone
By the time that the thought
Has passed
I am working on it
Give me some grace
I like empty pages
I like Mondays

I would eat the solar system
All in one bite
If it could give me clarity
If it would let me freeze time
I’m trying to surrender
But I’m hard-wired for fight
Give me some grace
I like empty pages
I like…

I like New Year’s, I like Mondays
I like firsts of the month
Notebook paper, wet cement
The moment’s never been touched
I like knowing that there’s something
That I haven’t messed up
‘Cause I will, and I do
And I’m supposed to