the gas station on the corner
stands bright in the night,
a silent confessional for a pack of regret.
as if it'll get me through one more
night of blue.

tides crash in like clockwork,
dripping seconds down my cheekbones,
and i'm really just trying to find someone who isn't washed up.
no one can tell me what to do.

and i tried to tell you what i meant,
of all the time left unspent.
your eyes rolled into the back of your skull; nothing's hollower than the truth.
one more night of empty-headed blues.

i crater low while the moon sits high,
but the sun will have to breathe.
i know it'll come around,
i just can't live to see;
bear to be a victim of a clockwork tease.