Wheels have touched down in the rain
and all I can hear is the sound of your name.
Follows me north on the train.
What is it I don't see?
This city should be as exhausted as me.
Now you are just waking up.
Now you are looking for two matching cups.
The light from the window is dim, but enough -
struggling to just break free.
This city should be as exhausted as me.
Will you burn down?
Wick melted, wax on the ground?
Will you draw lines
through your name on these street signs?
What will I do with mine?
Still got some long days ahead.
Driving Ohio still fills me with dread,
and a pause, like a country just holding her breath -
starting the count to three (one, two three)
Are you ashamed of me?
Will you let go?
All the sighs, and the words I know
that you hold in?
Stubbornnest standing wins
to run away again.
So maybe out east I'll become
half of the person I thought that I was,
and boil the water for our mismatched cups,
smoke dancing up through trees...
this fire dream's half as exhausted as me.

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