Feel the dirt, fight the ground I tread
I am a curse, I guess I've always slept better in an empty bed
I skipped states to stay sane,
and though it lead me through,
Northeast 15th couldn't keep me from loving you.
I tried running away to rid myself of the shame,
ended with nothing but holes in my jeans.
So hang me in the closet, with the rest of your outgrown things. Find another selfish lover and hold them close.
Find another who's better suited to cover your bones.
And I wish you weren't here.
A thousand miles and I still feel you like the thorn in my side. Running from my problems never worked
but I'm still lengthening my stride.
I hear your laugh from someone else,
sometimes your name in passing,
and after all the damage dealt I just wish you weren't here.
I am your worn-out clothes.
You are the ache in my bones.
And I saw you with my eyes closed,
I heard you calling in a dream.
Distance doesn't mean a thing when I still see you in my sleep.