I get lonesome sometimes
if all signs lead to you
I want you to be my mistake—
When the alcohol pumps through my veins.

If the air doesnt feel the same
and everything reminds me of you,
then be my mistake,
even if all signs say no—
I will say yes—

Even if all roads leave to a dead end,
if you dont let me in—
then right outside ill stay.

I would let you be my mistake.
even if goodbye is all we have.

If i would meet a Genie
On a parched and dusty road,
Found down upon his luck
With wishes to be sold.
Well,
Just one,
If truth be told.
Rattling around the lamp
Unkempt, rusted, and old.

I would trade all my tomorrows
To take away your pain and sorrow.

So I turn out all my pockets,
Gifts of silver, lint and gold.
Promises of future earnings
Whatever I shall own.
Offers of the occult.
Blood, shadow and bone.
The sum of all my dreams,
The deed to my rugged soul.

I feel like I'm stuck in a world full of strangers.
Invisible to everyone I meet,
Visible to everyone I haven't met.
Living in a land, somewhere in between,
waiting to return.

I crave for that familiar connection.
You know it all too well,
that instantaneous, gravity defying,
tear inducing, stomach turning,
gasping for air like someone has stolen your lungs,
smile for no reason,
the fuse being lit for that
spark
of a connection.

But yet when I make myself visible,
make myself vulnerable,
lay myself open,
as if I were on the operating table,
It's still not enough.
Even ripped open, I seem to find no cable of spark,
no artery or vein of connection.

Yet I am hopeful that someone will come along,
and take up residency,
put the gloves on and pick up the scalpel,
and transplant themselves into my soul,
return me from limbo,
and give me a way out.

Perhaps then,
I won’t be
stuck in a world full of strangers.