Traffic
You kept me stashed in your back pocket
I kept you safe inside my locket
They say the leaves blazing red is the season of loneliness
Winter’s airs a waste of breath; you thought the cracks on my skin were excuses for falling love,
But the only excuse for that is written on my heart
And in my coffee mug and winter’s last flower
You’re nothing but a silicone wire that fueled the pain in my blood
You were my message in a bottle that kept me sane, believing in redemption and salvation
But now you’re just a hollow vial, a promised prescription that makes me a panhandler for love
And the bruises on my fingertips tell me I’m better off finding my own way to the fresh capsules.
But the stitches on my jaw haven’t yet dissolved and the scar along my spine isn’t enough for you
And the season changes in my mind, the fire that burned the weight off my shoulders died
I know my figure isn’t something to die for, I know you’ll want something more than
A heavy heart that can’t fit in to this month’s best dressed, so leave me but don’t tell me where you’re going cause I might follow and I’ll send a postcard of all my faults your way
And I’ll spend most of my Saturdays stuck in a small room trapped with achy feelings with a view of Boston and a voice that tells me where to go and how to get there
But I won’t know how to get there like I did yesterday and the traffic’s got me waiting for a better reason. I know you’re gone but I wonder what it’d be like if you stayed. And the headlights got me staring disbelieving and the tragic truth’s that I’ve always been this way.
I kept you safe inside my locket
They say the leaves blazing red is the season of loneliness
Winter’s airs a waste of breath; you thought the cracks on my skin were excuses for falling love,
But the only excuse for that is written on my heart
And in my coffee mug and winter’s last flower
You’re nothing but a silicone wire that fueled the pain in my blood
You were my message in a bottle that kept me sane, believing in redemption and salvation
But now you’re just a hollow vial, a promised prescription that makes me a panhandler for love
And the bruises on my fingertips tell me I’m better off finding my own way to the fresh capsules.
But the stitches on my jaw haven’t yet dissolved and the scar along my spine isn’t enough for you
And the season changes in my mind, the fire that burned the weight off my shoulders died
I know my figure isn’t something to die for, I know you’ll want something more than
A heavy heart that can’t fit in to this month’s best dressed, so leave me but don’t tell me where you’re going cause I might follow and I’ll send a postcard of all my faults your way
And I’ll spend most of my Saturdays stuck in a small room trapped with achy feelings with a view of Boston and a voice that tells me where to go and how to get there
But I won’t know how to get there like I did yesterday and the traffic’s got me waiting for a better reason. I know you’re gone but I wonder what it’d be like if you stayed. And the headlights got me staring disbelieving and the tragic truth’s that I’ve always been this way.