Some people die in Texas.
Some people die in Spain.
Some people die in their sleep.
Some people die in pain.

We were all in love with trauma.
We were all in love with the same
ideas we projected onto people
and disguised with their name.

I don't live in nine-eleven-land
and neither do my peers.
I've been monitored by other people's Gods
for twenty-two ******* years.
Coffee pots and cigarettes
stimulate my day
and keep the thoughts streaming,
that eventually fade away.

Some people die in Utah.
Some people die in Prague.
Some people never get married
or have the family dog.

We were all in love with status.
We were all in love with goals
that would make life poignant
and make ourselves whole.

I don't subscribe to the thought
that my thoughts necessarily matter.
If life is a horror movie,
then I'm the fake blood splatter.
Bible thumps and dead eyes,
are all part of my design,
and how I live and where I die
means to separate my mind.

Everyone is hung up
Over some sad love
Lucky for me
Mines you
Everyone loves
Someone who loves
Somebody
Brand new

Momma asks when will I learn
When will I grow up
And put myself first
I tell her
It's different this time
that's what I said
Last time I was with him
She told me I'd be
Wearing a frown
When I deserved to be
Wearing a crown
I told her I'd take my mistakes
Because they were mine to make
But I keep hearing her voice
Every time I look him in the eyes
When the hell will I learn?
He can see her
But I can't see him
I feel guilty at the slightest whim
But he
I don't think he feels a thing

Did we make it home
After years of wandering?
Can we see the lights?