1. |
Keyholes
02:29
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|
I'm passed out from breathing charcoal.
A whole life spent down the same hole,
of numbers that I wont call.
A whole day staring at the same wall.
I hate the way my stupid voice sounds,
and the stupid words I wrote down,
and the way you say my name wrong,
and the way I'm writing this song,
Like I'm trying to keep believing
in people that keep leaving.
But I'll never learn my lesson,
and I'll just leave my front door open.
And I guess it can be a real drag,
but there's so very much for us to learn from loss.
So, I think I'll take my chances with the locks.
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2. |
Shoes: An Apology
04:41
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|
I guess it's been a year by now,
since we've seen each others' rooms.
With colder beds and slower heartbeats,
they're looking more like tombs.
Sad sorry way to spend last summer,
on the Seacoast all alone.
Sad sorry excuse for a couple,
but at least we tried for a little while.
We can watch the bitter sun go down together,
and trip over our shoes.
With our tongues and laces tangled up,
for the past five years.
I could've at least made the trip,
to say it to your face.
To listen to you while you cried,
to hold my breath and stand in place,
and stare down at the hardwood floors,
with my hands pinned by my side,
but I can't swallow anything,
from throwing up my pride.
I'll watch that bitter sun go down alone,
nervous and unsure.
I'll tie my tongue in knots over the phone,
and trip over every word.
You could've sued me for being honest.
An apology so long overdue.
You walked until your feet were sore,
in my cramped and blown out shoes.
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3. |
Moving Away
04:58
|
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|
I'll write a book on this year and I think that I'll call it "Boston Swallows Everything That Hasn't Already Found Some Way of Leaving Me Behind".
And "I just had to get out" or "the scenery was killing me"
I've heard it all a thousand times and I guess that I can't blame you. I've been feeling the same way.
I'm dying here inside my parents' house.
So, congratulations. The city really suits you well.
I hope you have fun on the West Coast.
I'm sure it will be good for you.
So, last night, I slept in someone else's U-Haul,
just to figure some things out.
Like what's so goddamn helpful in packing all your sadness up and taking it with you somewhere else.
But between boxes of other people's things,
I slept soundly for the first time in the month that I spent lying awake in my bed, eyes wide open thinking about:
backporch kisses, parking lots, overdue parking tickets, and trust.
But I woke up in the morning with thoughts of what little I had left:
A slowly dying savings and a best friend overseas.
A few more in the cities that it seems I'll never see.
and a joke about persistence that it's best if I forget...
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