my house feels the emptiest when it's full
the scent of home made food and the sound of my sister's voice both parade out of the kitchen through the rest of the rooms like a new orleans funeral trumpet
laugh all you want, i know you still look at me like i ****** your husband
laugh all you want, i know you'd rather go home to get high in the garage
laugh all you want, just remember to remind your mouth to smile when you do
you smell like ash and misery and leave traces of it everywhere you go and if it wouldn't leave you lonely, you'd look at the cigarette in my hand and say *this is all your fault