I can’t keep blaming the lighthouse for sinking my ship when I walk with my head down.
When I speak, people look at me like I’m sending smoke signals. My words don’t come easy anymore.
When you spend all your time with your eyes to the sky you end up looking down your nose just to look me in the eye.
Be the nine, and I’ll be the three, on a clock that lies over a map of this country.
They say to go with my gut, but there’s a hole that I can’t keep shut.
I don’t want to let go of knowing what I know.
Do you turn out weird enough
to laugh at how you used to be?
I guess you’re over them.
No big surprise you let them down again.
Give me one more chance to make my old friends laugh, to be just a footnote in their paragraph.
Heroes don’t die by their own rope in their own homes.