Just another bag of bones for the gods to sort.
Because I'm selfish enough to wanna get better
But I'm backwards enough not to take any steps to get there
And when you realize it's a pattern
And not a phase
It's what you've become and it's what you will stay
That's ballgame
She's crossing out the details.
Dusting off the picture frames, it's saturday.
She's been waiting for the phone to ring.
She's been waiting all night.
But it doesn't matter who's on the line
As long as the voice works.
A good man doesn't drink
And I've been drinking alone
So what does that make me?
The quiet can scrape
all the calm from your bones,
but maybe it should.
Maybe we need to be hollowed out
No comments:
Post a Comment