Here is a scale, weigh it out
And you will find, easily
More than sufficient doubt
That these colors you see

Were picked in advance
By some careful hand
With an absolute concept of beauty
They are smeared and these blurs

Come in random order
And color the eyes of your former lovers
Hers were green like July
Except when she cried

They were red
Now I know a disease
That these doctors can't treat
You contract on the day

You accept all you see
Is a mirror and a mirror is all it can be
A reflection of something we're missing
And language just happened

It was never planned
And it's inadequate to describe where I am
In the room of my house

Where the light has never been
Waiting for this day to end
And these clocks keep unwinding

And completely ignore
Everything that we hate or adore
Once the page of a calendar is turned it's no more
So tell me, then, what was it for?
Oh, tell me, what was it for?

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Conor Oberst