Life has made me lawless
Life made me a conman
I can't remember when I last felt stillness
Been stuck begging for change with a can
People walk by seeming flawless
But never look twice at their fellow man

Life has made me lawless
Life made me a conman
Pride and feeling tallness
Are two things I'll never understand
Most days the world seems ruthless
I suppose that's just my hand

Life has made me lawless
Life made me a conman
I hope death may take me from this madness
And make me a free man

It's nearing the time when everyone died.
In October one tried
By November two more, inspired, jumped.
Both land, only one gets up.

I wonder if I'll ever show him your grave.
Did you watch us when we walked right by you?
I wonder why you were one of the few I didn't save.

It's nearing the time when everyone died
& the way you left has kept you so alive in my mind.
I've held so many dying hands
I'm sorry I wasn't there
To keep yours warm.
Maybe if I'd said things right
You'd be sitting here with me tonight.
Maybe if I wasn't too tired to stay the night
Everything would be alright.

It's nearing the time when everyone died.
I've stopped using clocks to track the time.
Remember the night we talked for hours?
Remember telling me your favorite flowers?
I thought that meant you were getting better.
That maybe you could be saved.
At least I knew what to lay on your grave.

It's nearing the time when everyone died
& for every one gone two more tried.
Lately I'm running out of people to lose.
Of everyone I know I really only like one or two.

It's nearly the time when everyone died
& once I'm out of people to call mine
How am I supposed to tell the time?

Though I worry myself to pain,
And the wind unrelenting blows.

There is solace in the sight of an oncoming train.
Sometimes I wonder if the conductor knows.


Every evening at half past five
I board with no real destination.
His gentle voice asking for my ticket keeps me alive.

Though my daily absences keep raising questions.
This band around my finger has grown too tight.

He, acting less as a husband, more as a victor. Nailing my shoes to the floor so I can't leave at night.

Still my mind always drifts back to my train conductor.

A city of strange sights
Something sinister is hiding beyond the lights

Your comfortable ignorance blinds you from the war
I wonder if the fight is worth it anymore

The calm babble of a fountain near
Contrasts the cries for help barely reaching my ear

The place where our humanity is lost
And we leave one another to rot

I used to think myself a giving person
But I have since learned my lesson

I ask a man with a bourgeoisie air
For change to help pay my train fare

His face tightens when he looks at me
"Sorry,

I spent it all on overpriced coffee,"

And for another night I'm stuck here

I keep replaying the day you left.

A normal, almost pleasant morning until you tore that final rift.
Cool summer air mixing with despair upon finding your
note.

And my sudden flow of tears blurred most of what you wrote but,
It doesn't take much to know I don't make your cut.

And I've yet to address all of the stress or how much I have shrunk.
Most nights spent drunk, I've found the best listeners to be stars.

I tell them of gashes fading into scars.
Tip-toeing around the most painful parts has become a form of art.

What a fool to think I could trick the moon
with this broken heart.

No amount of alcohol can take me from these dizzying heights so,
I guess you were right.

The shutter clicks twice.
"You take too many pictures"
But you pay me no mind.

The years fly by and,
As you begin to forget
I keep asking why.

Still you smile at me,
Though I've become a stranger
Lost in memory.

I bring your pictures.
"Remember when we lived here?
Or these light fixtures?"

I brought your tapes but,
Your bed is empty now.
Mourning your lost shape.

When you left I found
Your philosophy makes sense now.
There's so much beauty
That can't afford to be lost.

I look one last time
At the first picture
You took with that camera
Now gathering dust.

I will likely die by 25
A slave to my vice.

But at least I will go
At the foot of the throne
Where I learned
What it means
To worship.