i'm still counting the hours,
watching the headlights,
listening for the door.
i'm still writing down phrases,
filling up notebooks,
with songs you won't hear.
we're still in that room.
i'm still the sort to say sorry,
but my room is too close, to be leaving your bed.
there's still thirty three reasons,
six dead in the basement,
...but i'm not like them.
we're still in that room.
it's still, at the playground at midnight.
your ghost sits to the right of a cigarette's glow.
where i'm still playing the victim,
humming just to hum, some song about 'home'.
and i know that this house will fall down in june,
and you'll be, you'll be carrying away,
take the lace from the windows,
the light from the moon,
but take your time baby...it's our last day.
just sit still. let me lift off that brown dress,
your teal plastic bracelets.
no it won't hurt a bit.
you still, you still make me nervous,
i'm drunk, but observant, i think you're enjoying it.
we're still in that room.
in the still, the darkness of rundel,
sit the whispers, the don't tells,
on a love seat long gone,
but i did, i loved you kittery,
in philadelphia, at york beach,
even if it was wrong.
we're still in that room.
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