Your Picture
Not putting the pieces back together. Break ups. amiright? It is hard to write music when I’m not miserable. Some nice reverse B3 in there for good measure.
Last night driving, nothing thought out,
On my way to certain death in your eyes,
Knowing that nothing waited permanent
But what I made of my dreams, and painted in the gray sky…
Now wishing I hadn’t driven the whole way,
But stopped when I saw the river and cast my dreams
Into the blue, lit by moonlight alone,
Or just turned around when I lost my nerve
“Your picture is still hung on my wall,
Frame repaired from hairline marks
Showing pain that epoxy patched,
And lines I’d forgotten to add”
Last night greeting, me with shotgun eyes,
Spraying dissent in every direction I went
You offered consolation in all my clothes
In a bag and flung at my feet, wrinkled and wet
Sorry left my lips, purposeless, misunderstood,
Anything to get back the life I’d had hours ago,
Nothing waits permanent, Did you think it would?
We had forever now I have this bag.
“Chorus”
Verse after verse, of curses in my mind,
As I ride along mocking yellow lines,
Once carried me to my home in your eyes,
Now sarcasm and delusion as they rewind
Due course to bring me back to empty walls,
Empty phone calls, where once you were,
At the other end of my ear, you had my focus
Now busy signal and machines, aim to deter-
My last apprehensive moments, breathing, sedating
Putting my love down like a fire grown dangerous
Bottles still remain unopened, pills still screwed bring
Hope in this fog, yellow lights clearing the way for us,
“Chorus”