She's on the train,
Two seats down to the left,
In the next booth over,
Staring out windows,
Just 'cause they're there,
With ghost eyes that won't see tomorrow,
Still staring out back doors,
Watching tire marks,
Burn sand and stone drives,
Watching grass fly,
Under heels that won't turn back,
Missing lips that scream when she cries,
While the old wires crawl on clouds,
Full with acid rain