The sputter and blink, a streetlamp
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Makes you taller then shrinks you then splits you in half
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So you're trailing yourself
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On the walk to the pay phone
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Your pocket's weighted down with quarters
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in the hope that no ones home
|
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You spray paint cinnamon on vines
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And key the cars you pass by
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Your ears burn and your voice don't sound right
|
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So you spend the next week playing weekend
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Rollin' three men alone in the dark in your kitchen
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Your apartment can't talk, so it's safe for your secrets
|
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All the stories you've invested with a masochist menacing meaning
|
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Those tired tricks that you play
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To graft a life to your name
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And you know It's not yours but for now it's okay
|
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You wake and cut your initials in cheap glass
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To mark a space for yourself when you're time here is passed
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And you're drifted and done, trading danger for distance
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And all those rocks that rope your neck
|
are finally nameless and weightless and faceless
|
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And you'll strip the sting from those stains
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That bleed the life from your face
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And your cheeks will burn red on that pure perfect day
|
|
-----------------
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You're Trailing Yourself
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| Kevin Devine |
