Is it a learned behavior to hate every word that falls
From my own fucking mouth
To be disgusted with myself
Or was that in the cards since 1994
Sounds like a personal question, but here we are again
Always wearing them, if not asking them
Oh, why is it so hard to ask them as a friend
The tank ran out
This time not south of Fargo
On a weekend run of shows
But it ran out in my home
Broken down and empty
On the side of my own highway
There are always things that need fixing
Like a brain with its wellness fleeting
Or a trailer tire, strewn down the road
Knuckles scraping concrete during panic
If our blood stained our skin forever
We would have so much more to explain then
More to talk about than just the weather
Driving while the world looks like a tunnel
I've lost the words to tell you how I'm feeling
But I love you, no matter how I say it
And that's the thing this planet won't be stealing
When hope runs out
And you sit in your shower, unmoving
And your childhood home says "count your blessings!"
How do you escape from that home
Well I ran to the water
It was frozen and quiet and perfect
So I stayed there, a moment not tunneled
And I thanked it through tears for existing
And wondered how we live like we do
It was a quiet trip home