You cut your teeth, then fell apart at the seams. All busted up you got the fuck out of dodge.
You’re hiding from your telephone. It feels good to be all alone.
You’re squinting at this box of wood and six strings. You’re frowning out the window at the living. You’re letting out your lungs up at the ceiling.
You don’t know what it takes to love somebody. You’re never running out of feeling ugly. You move too slow, and for that you’re sorry.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS