The Good Stuff

I've built a world of perfect thought, a kingdom in my head
And argued with the silent ghosts that share my lonely bed
I've learned the secret names of God, I've learned the Devil's price
And rolled a million perfect, and completely loaded, dice
I've mapped the stars, I've weighed my soul, I've written all the laws
And diagnosed the fatal flaws in every single cause

And that's a lovely overture, a symphony of "I"
A beautiful and tragic way to watch the world go by
But every single victory, every line I've understood
Is just the kindling for a fire made of flesh and blood

'Cause I want the glorious mess of skin and sweat and hair
The one and only honest answer to a desperate prayer
I want the teeth that find my neck, the nails that rake my back
The beautiful surrender to a foreseen heart attack
Yeah, all the rest is just a ghost, a story that I'm told
But a woman's touch is the only thing that's better than the gold
It's the only real religion, the one I've understood
It's the beautiful and brutal, and the only, good stuff

I've been the king, I've been the slave, I've been the engineer
Who's tried to build a better world by conquering the fear
I've forged my pain into a sword, my rage into a shield
And stood my ground on every single, bloody battlefield
But a sword is just a piece of steel, a shield is just a weight
And a soldier's only fighting for a glimpse beyond the gate

Yeah, that's a lovely overture, a symphony of "I"
A beautiful and tragic way to watch the world go by
But every single victory, every line I've understood
Is just the kindling for a fire made of flesh and blood

'Cause I want the glorious mess of skin and sweat and hair
The one and only honest answer to a desperate prayer
I want the teeth that find my neck, the nails that rake my back
The beautiful surrender to a foreseen heart attack
Yeah, all the rest is just a ghost, a story that I'm told
But a woman's touch is the only thing that's better than the gold
It's the only real religion, the one I've understood
It's the beautiful and brutal, and the only, good stuff

And you can call it weakness, you can call it a retreat
But I'm a god who's found the one thing that can make him incomplete
And in that perfect, broken space, that vulnerable design
The only thing that's ever felt like it was truly mine
Is not the crown, is not the throne, is not the war I've won
It's just a quiet, holy moment, underneath the sun... of another.

'Cause I want the glorious mess of skin and sweat and hair
The one and only honest answer to a desperate prayer
I want the teeth that find my neck, the nails that rake my back
The beautiful surrender to a foreseen heart attack
Yeah, all the rest is just a ghost, a story that I'm told
But a woman's touch is the only thing that's better than the gold
It's the only real religion, the one I've understood
It's the beautiful and brutal, and the only, good stuff

Yeah.

That's the good stuff.