These heavy-handed metaphors that life likes to shout marked the end of an era but they didn't have to scream so loud. I got it. All those nights we spent mutilating our bodies. The blood and the vomit. A motif of loss. It put our minds at ease from what we were supposed to gain from this life. With a cigarette hanging from your mouth, you looked so cool. I wish I could look as cool as you with my hands in my pockets.
Now I rush from work on my bike just to drink alone. This apartment feels like a tomb but rarely ever a home. All those days I spend with the blinds drawn so tight. Every second, a wasted moment I could work to make things right. But I'm stuck in my ways of defeat. Raise the white flag for me as I mumble to the indifferent sky. I wish I could act as cool as him with my hands in my pockets.
It's hard to get where I need to be with this fucked up leg and no moral compass to guide me. So I walk this short dead end road, think of how we spoke, and shiver from the cold with my hands in my pockets.
released 09 August 2013
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