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 mate it for you I've got a sneaking suspicion Please don't leave sooner that you have to
An itch I can't scratch Count me in I'll bow down and sow a garden of back bones I never had Running circles straight into the ground Spine bent back Purple, red I'll continue to carry you Perpetual, preventable ache