bruises on my feet from
a night i can't remember
in that town that i can still
navigate with my brain
turned off and my body
left to it's own devices, a
dangerous moment, but
i've been here before

a zombie version of myself
wanders down main street
staggering back to a home
that's not mine to crash in
a bed that i once would hide
in, alone, and it's crushing
this spirt of mine

and when i wake up the
next day to peals of laughter
and look at myself and don't
understand, i'm a mess and
a martyr who just can't grow
up yet and i'm bitter and
wishing that time was on
my side

when i pick up the phone
it's you that i hear now and
i'd do anything to turn back
the clock, but it's me and i'm
alone and i can't reach the
hands now, and breaking
it is the only way of making
it stop