It's 3AM and I can't sleep because my legs are restless and I know where they want to run to
difficult to comprehend sometimes
that a boy who I laid in parking lots with and laughed at skies with is in a pile of dirt
is that what life really ****** comes to
we're born and its this fabulous miraculous mystery and we're the greatest beings to walk the planet and we can be taken so quickly and just vanish into ******* dust
I'm sick to my stomach thinking of you in your inevitable gold chain and Rolex always so clean and charming and how now you're filled with dirt and you're just a skeleton rotting in a suit
Where'd your big brown eyes go?
I guess I can look at tree trunks and think of you
Or the texture of the next noose I won't have the ***** to use