(Untitled)
i cant get that sound you make out of my head
i cant even figure out whats making it
it sounds like fingernails across the moon
or do you rub your wings together?
theres a mean bone in my body,
and i would hurt a fly.
i cant even figure out whats making it
it sounds like fingernails across the moon
or do you rub your wings together?
theres a mean bone in my body,
and i would hurt a fly.
distance reminds me it was a long time ago.
And in summers and basements that passed,
we would sit on the couch and gaze.
I was and still am continuing to be
good safe number three.
Knives in backs lodged by secrets.
they're out like a fad and then repeated.
And you could just as easily put up an ad.
Gor that perfect mistake or friend,
that got lost or forgot their way.
And who are those people in the back of the papers?
The back of the buses the back of the class.
The eyes looking and longing still stuck in the back,
the back of their minds the backseat of cars.
It might be nothing at all, it's crisp like the air in fall.
Is it worse to have wasted these chances,
but to make an effort, when left alone who cares?
About the ouctome and futileness of everything.
This is it this is nothing this is it all.
And i swear, I swear time and time again.
On things that mean nothing.
On things that I will contine to make bets on.
And it goes and it goes until we just stop.
Yhe yeild sign is yelling "Fucking stop!"
Run from this town these people,
to the nearest place you can lose your head.
But please, don't lose your mind.
Come back to this. This town, these people.
We will become that near place,
the closest town,
a safe haven.
From yourself, manifested concrete walls and faces.
Start walking to keep your body moving.
Keep these feelings keep them flowing.
Flowing until it all flows out.
i've always know that we are those people.
Looking for reasons beyond doubt.
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