Thumbing through magazines Painting a dream house Being mocked by the crack in the ceiling At the top of the stairs Wishing it'd swallow me whole Quiet and whole It's your decision to change But I'd rather make it for you I've got a sneaking suspicion Please don't leave sooner than you have to An itch I can't scratch Count me in I'll bow down and sow a garden Of backbones I never had Running circles straight into the ground Spine bent back Purple, red I'll continue to carry you Perpetual, preventable ache