you wear your tin pan stripes
and dash casual away
with nothing better than half assed goodbye to say
a bottle of boxed wine and
a pack of cigarettes later,
the world's axis shoulder spinning like a softball player
no mittens on the floor and no songs at the door,
theres a two step left to greet the things we abhor, you
got a twisted sense of humor for a kid from nowhere
swinging off the rafters of your independence


kicking the **** from her shoes in shifts and
a last ditch effort to  give a ****

I'm high in my tower, breezes tearing through the eaves
watching the world turning,  looking so **** carefree
i got your word this will be better than it was
but your heart doesn't have the experience it thinks it does
i'll loose my tongue finally now that you've started coming around
but you don't seem that comfortable coming to my side of town
we let each other down and that will never change
i'm just glad you're back in speaking range

the shoes are by the door
now clean but still messing the pristine floor