I know your throat feels so damn thirsty
But the Brita's empty once again in the fridge
I'm sorry Matt for being such an asshole,
But the hole in the wall feels lonelier than it did.
When i was seventeen
And the train tracks seemed so kind
Now my hometown's on TV
And the worst part feels so far from over
And if i'm not bleeding,
You can just assume i'm doing fine.
I know my hands seem dry,
But just assume it's cold outside.
I'm sorry Mom, i've been lying this whole time.
But don't you worry now, 'cause i've been talking to Caroline.
When i was seventeen
And the train tracks seemed so kind
Now my hometown's on TV
And the worst part feels so far from over
There is nothing more miraculous than the
Exit 167 sign on the Garden State Parkway
The green glimmer glazed upon the horizon
Beckoning my name, distant but not forgotten.
My heart is a factory off the New Jersey Turnpike
Fumigating industrial waste into my paper lungs
My chest, six panels and dotted coloring
Hiding in burrows disguised as Babylon
Writing off talking in my sleep as a reason to stay away from people.
When I know, i'm just terrified of people.
I know that no matter how hard I try
I am still drawn to the loading dock behind the Closter Cinemas
As it beckons our shared name
Home.
And it hurts
That i still care
I'm trying to forget it
But i can't.
Please understand.
And if i'm not bleeding,
You can just assume i'm doing fine.
And if my hands seem dry,
You can just assume it's cold outside.
I'm sorry Mom, i've been lying this whole time.
But don't you worry now, 'cause i've been talking to Caroline.
Let me feel alive.