Winter

You know when you're standing out there
having a cigarette in the frigid cold
and there are those buildings with big
blinding neon signs through the heavy dark night
and a few of the letters have died out
and they breathe out toxins across the street
or down the road
or miles away
and the cars breathe them out
and the trains breathe them out
and yeah
You're breathing them out too
and you think to yourself
Standing there in the cold
"Hell... It must be winter again."

I call this home...
We... Call this home

and I dont care if you don't want to hear
that I could watch the whole thing burn itself apart
Choke on fumes
Break its bones
Whatever
But when you come around
You're like the surgeon that sews the tendons
of reality back into place
Triple bypass sunshine surgery
PHD in making me happy
and that means something to me
Then you are gone again
when I get out of the snow
and I'm at the bar drinking ice ciders in a broken place
Making up excuses
Waiting on friends who hardly care to show
I'm just the guy writing words that you don't want to know
Relying on some passive chance that scribbling them down might warm up your mind
Or at least warm up my own
and so what if it does?
This is just the place that I call home...

In winter.

In Headlights

What are you chasing down
Good friend?
It'll never turn out the way you plan
Nobody at home
Devil's at the bar
Turn all that hard work into nothing
But an aching hangover
A night without stars
A bloody liver
A rotten brain
You buy the beer for thirsty mouths
They give you peace for an hour at a time

What are you hunting down
Good friend?
or is it you who has become the prey?
of all the dirty tricks under your camouflage vest
In headlights the whole entire way
I guess you've got to hide it somewhere
Up your nose
Down your throat
It's all the same
And you can run as far as those two feet will take you
But will it be fast enough to lose track of your brain?

Are you crying again
Good friend?
Is it burning hot inside of that bed?
The one you have made with a blanket of flames
and the stories locked inside of your head
Are you tossing and turning in the ashes
of a sad, lonely girl's dying heart?
Would you still be in there
If the lengths of her hair
knew everything those fingertips have touched?
Are you lying again?
Are you burning again?
Are you crying again?

Are your eyes drunk as sin tonight
Good friend?
We both have bottle's to chase with our souls
and mine is for the numbing
and the boredom and the pain
and yours is to the next bottle's goal
So the great outdoors won't feel so empty
So you can bare to make that telephone call
So you can brave on through it like a breathing machine
and laugh and play with all of the flowers on the wall

You've almost disappeared
Good friend
Down into the world
you kept telling me you'd never let win...
I bled out the role of a recourse
and let you back into the night
Repeating your fate is just mentally insane
but who am I to offer any inch of advice?
Instead of swallowing your words
You swallowed everything you could
For a lifetime outside of yourself
Some call that hell
and I could not help
and that's my hell