Last night I went to see a hypnotist
Asked her to teach me not to dream
I've got too much I think about
An overdrawn account of people I've been too afraid to need
She said, "I'm no history revisionist
And there's some things I can't undo
You've got a tiny splinter on
The tip of your finger
It demands all the attention in the room"

I wish I could sleep on planes
And that my father would really love me
He'd show up on my wedding day
And tell my family they're all so lucky
He'd tell me how he wish he'd stayed
And that he never meant to disappoint me
But 'til then I'll exist as the optimist

I was an emotional architect
Who knew your dimensions more than you
I learned which way you turned your back
To let go of eye contact
And which bottles made you feel most immune

I wish I could sleep on planes
And that my father would really love me
I wouldn't have to feel such shame
Around how often and how deep it cuts me
He'd call me almost every day
"How's the weather? Are you eating, honey? "
But 'til then I'll exist as the optimist

(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm, mm-mm)
(Mm-mm)

I know a dirty little magic trick
To disappear and disconnect
Maybe I learned it from the best
Thank you, I guess, yeah
If you saw it I bet I'd earn your respect

I wish I could sleep on planes
And that my father would really love me
It wouldn't take his dying day
Some sort of signature that he needs from me
My door is open just in case
You don't even have to say you're sorry
I already forgive you for all of it

But it's hard to exist as the optimist