I’ll put a video up later tonight;
It all starts with broken sentences, about where we’ve been living in,
the state that changed like government when we closed our evening eyes.
and the hope we had in our jean pockets, just fell through holes into parking lots
and our wellingtons weren’t part of our disguise.
so the evening rain came in pouring, through blinds and shades and insect nets.
it ran down paint in faded sprints of lonely snail tracks.
those arguments around the fire, were nothing short of smoking tar,
so death will come much quicker in his leather seated car.
the jukebox always plays our song, we’re holding hands just to feel someone.
i’d ask you to dance but you know i’ve two left feet.
but when my conversation lacks compass,
i’m sure you’ll find someone better dressed
who you’d make a better future with than me.
so we hung the painting on the wall, and stood like ancient stone statues
as our waving hands made shadows on the grass
the best part of feeling sorely lost, is simpleness of a broken heart
and the fight to regain how it ever was.
