It comes on
and he laughs and you laugh nervously along.
(This song saved your life.)
The radio blares the **** of the latest joke, but songs
aren't allowed to save lives any more so you keep quiet.
Music isn't a cure, and The Cure have been long out of style and
before anyone had ever heard of Twenty One Pilots anyway and
since long before Rose killed herself with a twenty pill crash diet.
but he laughs and you laugh nervously along.
Those chords saved your life
But "can you believe we
to this song?"
The sunset looks beautiful with the windows rolled down
and you wonder how you ever survived this long, anyway.
Fingers touch my lips,
run through my hair,
undo my tie, and fits of laughter
cut through the noise and chatter
of an anxious mind.
I leave my worries behind,
pressed against her dress
on the floor with my discarded tie.
An echo. A kiss. A sigh.
What it is to be alive!
What it is to be alive.
His teeth brush her skin and she flinches.
Breathy gasps on shifting eyes
Slide across the icy air, and inches
Of separation mark porcelain lies.
Porcelain teeth mark crimson brands
And whiter still the skin where wedding bands
Rested not long ago
Upon skin that recoils from his perfect hands.
And choices that only she can know.
When kids pop more pills than balloons
at a fair, take more rips from bongs
than Beyblades, shake hands with *****
dollars and plastic bags, steal more money
than hearts, are in more mugshots than family
photos, **** more than war, sell more ****
than lemonade, read more billboards than books,
go through more girlfriends than socks in a week,
text more than they write, inject more ******
than flu vaccinations, drink more beer than fruit punch,
put their lips around more pipes than Popsicles,
and die more than live;
then we'll know we've failed them.