No time was wasted on deciding what was meant
Or shifting the blame for the ashes in the bed
We got high together, watching parks and Rec and Bored To Death
Moved south together, needing not a whole lot to be said
Putting pressure on the temples made the headaches go away
Suppressed internal dialogues that made us so afraid
Of loving someone openly, and letting others fade
She said
I don't want another suture, I'm fine to let it bleed,
Hey, I could be your suiter, you just tell me what you need
I promised that within the year, she'd be a pillion passenger
And we'd ride out of this town, we both coveted for years
I felt I let her down, I know in love, I am an amateur
Where do you draw the line between character and actor?
I tried to keep up with the
Illusion, the first impressions of my songs
As if we shared the same conclusions about how to write the wrongs
But the closer that you get to me, the more space between the words
I'm a person, not a poem, credits due where it's deserved
Nothing really touches
A void exists between held hands
And that's where you can find me
Molding hourglass sand
But from the stress of being held, we saw death take a baby bird
I had hoped that it would live to
Tell how humans weren't all predators
We dug, avoiding corpses in a massive unmarked grave
Wrapped it in a tissue and prayed its soul was saved
Now I'm not sure what I needed, but if it's any consolation
I know I wanted company and honest conversation
You'll forever be a lover, my family and friend
And you'll find the strength you've
Always had to start your heart again
Nothing really touches
A void exists between held hands
And that's where you can find me
Molding hourglass sand