lately it's been getting late but i'm not tired, and no thanks to
sleepless nights spent burning with desire. so i'll get in my car.

we drove to the shoreline with the check engine light on.
we slept in a spare room, sparing no thoughts for our friends.

and we're all going straight to hell for all the lies we tell ourselves.

last night i wanted to leave all my friends out. desperate chance dragged me out of the sand.
but chance's certain way of getting stuck on one small desperate action robbed me of all my good luck.
why did i think i could make it better now?
why did i think i could keep my feet on the ground?

if i wake up and accidentally crawl into your arms, it's nothing personal. personhood has always seemed so strange.
why do things always have to go and change? be better off if things just stayed the same.

if i freak out and crash my fucking car into your house, of course it's personal. personhood has made me feel this way.
why do things always have to go and change? be better off if things just stayed the same.

i'm getting too old for this shit. i'm throwing fits and acting like a kid again.