Sunday, March 2, 2008

what's left of the fire

the road is so much longer
without the radio
you've been caught, in every thought
my head starts to slow
the lines are passing by me
they all turn into one
extended line, made up of white
so color me i'm done

you're caught up so far away
where everything moves fast
how could i have expected 
anything to last
'cause when you cannot look at me
and when you say it hurts
that's when my feet are nailed down
you leave me so inert

my plane is falling up and down
air flies across my hand
i start to think, and cease to blink
i'm troubled once again
but i know it'll be okay
because soon we will forget
this year we spent inside our heads
dreaming up what was best
but that's okay, don't think about it
every time you close your eyes
'cause everything you start to do
will reflect how you feel inside.