Homeless

i'd rather live on these cold streets than be here, i swear.

The precision it takes to frame the curves of your face

I’m trying, but dying, and lying in these streets

Sleeping in the alleyways, upon half ways, and two ways

And it makes no difference when all you know it how to grow

But we shrink, and we wither into dust and blow away

As the moon shakes it head and says we’re nothing but dead

A neon shout, purple thunder, and I’m blinded by sound

An abyss of lonely colour takes the shape of my ear

I try not to toss and turn as my eyes go dry and my stomach churns

But this pavement’s cold and does me no good

When my muse is to win, but you’re trying to loose

I suppose I could tell you to walk out that door

But my doors lead inside, and my outside is fine

A quiet silence screams in my ear, but I’m already half deaf

I’ve wandered this road, and a piece of broken tape

Shakes in the calm breeze, and masks my sprouting home

Until it is complete, I belong on this street

Until it is one with this girl, I am one with the world

I’m so far gone, I’m beyond your doorstep

I’ve been running into lightning, and bolts welcome me in

I sip tea and tell tales of the home I used to know

And how dark and damp the floorboards were

How sleek and sneaky your tendencies became

The patience it takes to frame the curves of your face

Is a road my will is not willing to travel