Bins

I sit and arrange my life into bins and circles
 Where they best suit what my moment's need is till it goes
 Floating over and counting the borders and miles
 I'm partitioning others into folders and files
 So love me while it suits your plans 'cause lord knows you don't suit mine
 I'll give you all I can get but we are so low on our time
 So I'll leave a piece of me as your phantom limb
 That will hold you like I did when I was there
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 My labeled life and my sensible, stark sense of self
 Make maps and spreadsheets that itinerate me through this shell
 Floating over the bridges I've burned or let froze
 Rationalizing my actions through the life I have chose
 I look at all that's looking out
 I'll crumple up all these blueprints and I'll set it alight
 I'll rip and tear out the wicked ends of my horrible mind
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 So love me while it suits your plans 'cause I've cleared all of mine
 I'll give you more than the best and I've got nothing but time