Etiquette.

A could differen't ideas that aren't totally glued together the way I want. Sort of going for an obscured acoustic song. I'm sure it needs plenty of edit.

Last year all over again,
peeling paint from the walls.
You are sticky paint again,
another year until its gone.

Grandfather clock in the corner keeps me.
I'm wasting time again.

We stopped for the last time, I hoped,
twenty miles to the gallon,
for the first time you spoke since the last.

Your words were a steam,
rude, calm and clean.
I swear I didn't see a thing.

Every exit we passed further fogged up the glass,
you have said a thing since we left,
but I feel you in each of my breaths.

I have a name that keeps me.
I have time to keep.

By the time you know I'm convinced.
By the time we get home,
I'd thaw off these fits.

Later when we're in our room and you undress,
I wont be so rude as to watch.