The Write

They've said it every year but this times it seems like
The end is near and I'm in line to see the light
How far does this black tunnel go
I got a car but the gas is running low
And as long as I've known the bumps and creeks of this house
It's starting to make the types of sounds that only comes from people's mouths
You can't tell me it's still settling
Built on an indian burial ground killing everything
The childhood scar on my chin is back again
That old jump over my own leg dance move has to end
I've seen better days in my night terrors
I was a bike messenger without a bike and I would write letters
Ask directions to your whereabouts
Before the slow walk the rest of the show-offs were pealing out
To many hares only one tortoise
Thats why I left this city, too fast paced for this HO-HUM tourist
By the time I developed the pictures
They're as blurry as my memory of constant life fixtures
If distance is a girl's best friend
Tell them bitches in the rough who think that love comes with diamonds
Slave labor, you made me work for what I couldn't have
Diamonds cut, but coal burns and nothing lasts forever
Wonder why I bothered saving any of your letters
They're just aged paper
Crumble
Slave labour, you made me work for what I couldn't have
Diamonds cut, but coal burns and nothing lasts
Wonder why I saved your urn of ashes

I've got an insecurity box for your mail
Tracing the name on the return adress as if it was made of braille
Pretended it was your finger but careful to not break a nail
The one that sealed the coffin shut when it opened caused a paper trail
But since then I buried your dead sea scrolls
And emptied my head of these old trivial memories that I seem to hold
Now you're a foot note with cement shoes
In case you wonder what that sinking feeling has been ever since I left you