Zip code 99123
Worst school systems
Boomerang effect
I know it truly is awful
It is the land of hopelessness
It sure as hell isn't
The Promised Land
But blue skies
Grey clouds
Hot summers
Frozen winters
Secrets
Community
Love
Lies
Jealousy
Complete bliss
Tied in with a blanket of anguish
Settled like dust
Those who live here
Those who leave here
Those who always return here
Remember
Forget
Either way you can't change
The history of our hearts
It can be hellish
It can be worthless
And true, there is absolutely nothing going for anyone here
But it will always be my hometown
Electric City
Zip code 99123
Just above the ****** dam
Because my home
Is where my memories
Of lessons learned lies

You left.

I stayed.

Window panes are rightfully named.

It's what I felt watching you walk away.

Situated in self caused misery
Her choices translucent
Influenced by a life of negativety
She filled her tub with murky water
Warm, a place filled to the tip with disgrace
A bed is shelter overhead,
comfort is never enough
In this vague interpretation of what is good,
she has stiffened posture
A symptom of exposure

Like clockwork each day
Near the edge
Of the bay
A little old man arrives
He sits down in the grass
Watches boaters fly past
And fishers go on
With their lives

All around the people
Rush about in a hurry
Without a word or even
A stare
To a man with scarred skin
Papered over weak bone
Deep wrinkles
And snowy white hair

His name is James
Though I’m sure you don’t care
But once was a time it meant something
Somewhere
The war has been won
History left it behind
Yet it continues to play
Inside of James’ mind

She calls you in the middle of the night
Her voice as sharp as knives
And she says she wants to die
Not to **** herself
Never
Only she doesn't want to be alive
No one knows better than you

The living were born
The dead did die
The fear won't let
the sleeping dogs lie
when the shadow comes
creeping
through the town.

The pastors yawn,
the demons frown;
sometimes you're up
sometimes you're down,
but you can't listen
to what the devils say.

I've heard the kettle
whisper
when I came by to
kiss her
but I've never heard God
get comfortable with sin.

I think I'll try getting old
before I lay down to die.
No matter what,
when it ends
I won't let them lie,
no,
but when I lie,
the dead will mourn for me.

There's coffee in the fridge,
there's whisky in the ***,
so many things I did backwards,
like buying your nonsense in lot.

I've been sitting pretty
is it make-up, or is it wit? See...
I don't have to be pretty
to be loved by dumb luck.

When I go out to meet her
I'll be checking my dresser
Hat, shirt and dress, yes sir,
You'll be colored yeller,
but when I die,
it doesn't matter what they see.
Cuz when I lie,
the dead will mourn for me.

I'll be buried empty,
but the plants will have plenty,
of all my meals I'd rather leave behind.
I don't have money,
don't take that to make it sunny,
but I'll be cooking where I'm hard to find.

I've got oil to spare,
to lay your body bare,
and spend your love
to keep my engine running.

I'm devil may care,
I'm angel may stare,
and hope no one's lookin'
when I pass you saucy
love letters.

Arguments fine tuned,
we leave common sense marooned,
when we box pandora up
and let her free...
continually.

I've seen the moon go red
Like every word you said,
and I'd rather chase some ***
then get insurance,
because when I die,
no,
when I lie,
yes,
when I lay down,
the dead will mourn for me.