you wrote a song bashing me
and I killed my fish just to feel something
we both have our ways of coping, friend.

Say my name until it sticks to your tongue like cotton
drying your mouth out into a drought,
making sure that every word you swallow down to keep you from speaking it
clings to the back of your throat, creating a lump

she misses you
but you come around for the selfish reason of making residence
in the vacated spots of her motel mind
the motel suite turning into a full time live in apartment
When will you get bored of this dumping ground town
much like you did of the other places you left behind?
Won't you miss us?

I manipulated my way into the contacts of your phone
just to prove to you how mature I've become
you took note,
you told my friend so.
But in your enlightened state,
your third eye can see the storm I've got planned for you
you unravel my plans of dragging you back into my drain storm
And here comes out the emotional part of me
that weighs the options;
would I manipulate you in order for you to become weak enough to run back into my arms?
Or do I instead let you go and follow your own accord,
knowing full well that isn't me.

I haven't changed, John, and I'm sorry that you'll never be able to know that.