Ten months in the incinerator
Is better than being alone
When the thoughts in your head have caved in
turning parchments and paper into diamond rings
Your hopes have become stagnant
rusted over by old regrets
your trip to the corner window
left outlines of your weary breath
There's a light across the city
it doesn't ever go out
and you think
"Were all going out the same way"
In ten months you'll be home again.
I guess it's better than being alone
When the thoughts in your head have caved in
turning parchments and paper into bad habits
and your hopes have become stagnant
rusted over by old regrets
your trip to the corner window
left outlines of your weary breath
that said "We're all going out the same way"
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