being young smoking in the stair well
getting older smoking thinking oh well
seems like me and Mary met in past lifes
she helps me with the decay
that's why I have a half-life
and nothing stays the same
but everything is half right

smoking on the creek bed
standing under trees
never say what I mean too
rolling harder than the stream
poster boy for second place
my nightmares were once dreams
I can't sleep much
I still can't trust enough
I can't love ,can't even lust
the person I was is dust
something's killing me but I can't find the source
I keep moving but I have no true north
I'm head over nose ,plane into field
I'm not Jets to Brazil , my lyrics don't fit the bill
"touching you I start to bloom"
I've been doing photosynthesis with no light
I told you I haven't  been living right

I've been driving at night
With every seat empty but the drivers
Hoping my mind and the road are the same
It seems to me I'm always in the wrong lane

Streetlights are the only illumination
On a dead and silent nation
I've never been religious
So my tires pray
And an engine's hum
To replace words I can never say

God as in asphalt ,driving to exist

I rise with with the morning sun
only to die at night again
swallowed whole in the stomach of leviathan
I've been been through the thick
and it's left my body rail thin
my bones may break
I hope they only bend
I grew up and my problems got bigger
understand now why my family hates themselves and their livers
life went from semi-sweet to the worst kind of bitter
I never wanted to start, can I really be called a quitter ?

the wind carries you name but I won't listen
the rain has your scent
I learned much from living
not every angel is heaven sent
all the the love I was giving
I wonder where it went
alone on these dark nights
like you I learn to cherish it .

Lois Lane in a kyropnite dress
I couldn't see your intentions through flesh
I could only guess and I made the wrong step.
I need to find a new map , retrace and backtrack .
Push you out and found where my heads at.
those promises you made , I can't forget that
nostalgia is the hearts favorite death trap .

we selling ourselves short and spreading each other  thin
I'll push myself out just to let you in in
set your marks and we'll begin again
I won't break but you know I bend
what drives some to the bottle drives me to the pen
set your marks and we'll begin again.