Maybe I already met you.
Maybe I just didn't know it.
Maybe it was last Tuesday, in the bookstore, you asked me about Steinbeck.
Maybe I lost you,
Maybe I'll never know it.
Maybe the numbers don't fit, no clarity, the static doesn't break up.
Oh I can't seem to find the link, the one that makes it all make sense.
Logic told me long ago that it doesn't exist.
Baby its the human condition, ain't no finer print
Baby its the human condition, ain't no finer print.
What if I forget this.
What if you aren't there.
What if the last place is, somewhere where I, I can't reach the words.
What if this isn't real,
What if we're nowhere,
What if truth is abandoned, house untended, what if God gave up the fight.
That is when we are free, oh
but freedom is never quite the comfort that you want it to be.
You're what I need you to be,
and i'll choose you, every time.
When everyone is fallible, when you see that nothing makes sense.
My heart told me long ago that this is all there is.
Baby its the human condition, ain't no finer print.
Baby its the human condition, ain't no finer print.
