This must be some kind of signal I can barely speak English You should see me overseas I’m not sure about much But I can tell you with certainty That little screen won’t make you happy
You could still write me letters We’d still breathe the same air
Then they don’t get to touch you Or tell you who you’re supposed to be Or tell you who to love I felt beautiful and sober Though I see now that was a bit of a stretch
I heard you downstairs in the kitchen singing those old Ohio songs Just trying to be simple again I know I should be sleeping but I’m looking at @hotel_artwork Oh lord, I’ve been so tucked away
You could still write me letters We’d still breathe the same air Just pitch it into the wind We’d still live forever
Turn it off They don’t speak for us To just listen How I miss it