lyrics
Well you left and I think of the last day I clutched your chest and the things I forget, like: December 9th, March 8th, July 6th when I showed up late to your pop's funeral date. I'm a reprobate, I know, and you still forgave, but I'm here to make it up, change it up, or believe I’ve got the will to still stand tough. There’s a cow in pasture. I can’t breathe much faster. I’m just a ghost you can’t capture. Box step with me. Let’s take it 1-2-3, I’ll take the first step back, then repeat. I’ve got a friend at war, pride written like the lore of old soldiers. As he stares at his feet, in a trench, feels his stomach clench at the sight of a flying finch. Slugging master cylinders with cinder in your hair, don’t act scared. Don’t think no one cares. Kicking a dead man with an old shoe—making sure the dead are dead is what you have to do! Cash in your checks, places your bets on anyone but me—I’m a second place man. The future’s not ours to see… I’m the best man to be asking you please. Please, please, please.
1. I’ve got nine millimeters, one cigarette, a fully loaded clip.
2. I feel the bullet through my head and ask, “Is this what you were born to do?”
3. I was never keen on the idea of being half human, half machine.
4. I could go to war, kill everything, or nothing to destroy every being.
5. I’m lucky to be alive, to be born, to even dance waltz next to you.
6. I got six shots left and I’m pointing them directly at their chests.
7. You belong in heaven. It’s so obvious in that dress, that blouse, those shoes. God ain’t got a fucking clue if he don’t take a minute to choose to save you.
So all we’re left with is this message, this visage. We’re invested in a half-a-beer and past-due postage. Oakracokage! Scurv’s on the smokage. And some days I can’t wake up. Wait three days before I shake that dice cup. Blink once for yes, twice for no. All I know is that I can’t let go. Please please please.
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