An Entire Life Past Tense

The cottonball sky rises over the foothills
before this coffee has even kicked in.
Beside you, she sleeps, studs reflecting
the souls you haven't quite forgiven.

Her heart beats
like a bass drum at halftime,
and mine beats
like a drunken tambourine.

We dream
that this flight is never over,
but we know
that it is bound to land.

The Plains will welcome me again.
Perhaps that's where I've always been.
The night will blanket me with moonbeams,
and distance will gain infinity.

Her heart beats
like the pulse of an updraft,
and mine beats
like a violent hurricane.

I dream
that this flight is never over,
but I know
that it is bound to land.

Her heart beats
like an autumn breeze,
and mine is
an atomic bomb,
waiting to be dropped
on unsuspecting innocents.

It's crazy,
it's amazing
how our lives
begin again.

Is your moon,
my moon?
Do your stars
still shine the same?

Sunrise brings color back
to these Black Hills
and my pale cheeks.
I'm swimming in antifreeze,
just keep your cool,
don't shut down.
Don't leave.
Don't go.

Should've never left, you know,
or maybe I know that I walked
through that door first,
closed it on your heart
just to see if you'd open
it back up;
open your heart back up,
let us be
who we used to be.

These stairs are manmade.
We fell down them together;
we each broke our ankles,
but it never left a mark.

This train line is fucked.
The locals all know it.
Your tickets are useless;
your seat has been claimed.
Wheels roll on without you.
They will forget your name.

Won't ask if you need a hand.
Will comply if you can't.
Maybe a gossip point,
maybe it's just a front.

Regardless, you know
they will watch you
wallow in silence
and swallow your conscience
'til the thunder,
it subsides.

Your bruises are shallow
and do not fit the model
of a victim of a crime.

Closet shadows dangle deals
ahead of starving solitude.
Your famine is priceless;
your waste has been claimed.
Break the bones off your ribcage;
wash the skin of your shame.

Won't ask if you need a hand.
Will tolerate if you can't.
Maybe a gossip point,
maybe a selfish stunt.

Regardless, you know
they will watch you
wallow in silence
and swallow your conscience
'til the thunder,
it subsides.

Your bruises are shallow
and do not fit the model
of a victim of a crime.

Don't trust anyone,
like Stone Cold once said.
Don't tell anyone
the rights you've been read.
Don't trust anyone;
your skins will be shed.
Don't tell anyone
this abuse is undead.

They'll never be your confidantes.
They'll never be your great escape.
They'll never need your company.
They'll never be your confidantes.

Far from a gallant,
you belong to the planet;
let me absolve your sins.

Your well-rehearsed lies
are broadcast on the radio.
I'm diggin' the tune;
the words becoming truth.

Now I hear your voice through a telephone
with a cord the length of the Florida coastline
and all the other borders that we never crossed together.

Although you left this message,
I know you'll never own it.
Yeah, I know you'll never own it.

Now is it just convenience
that keeps these lines connected?
Your actions bleeding cowardice,
just as I suspected.

You had a key to every door
that I ever could have locked.
The boys will grow up without me;
I doubt they'd recognize me now.

All these dreams will one day end.
Your voice will fade to a whisper,
to a gust I can't seem to grasp.

And I'll move on,
cut the leash and collar you tightened.
And I'll move on
from the coughing and choking on your teeth.
And I'll breathe
because I know you'll never own it.
Yeah, I know you'll never own it.

Now is it just convenience
that keeps these lines connected?
Your actions bleeding cowardice,
just as I suspected.

You had a key to every door
that I ever could have locked.
The boys will grow up without me;
I doubt they'd recognize me now.

Redemption thickens,
clogging your selfish heart.
Could have eased it weeks ago,
now it's an abcess,
an infection I can't spit out,
an infection I can't bleed out.

J'aime cette fille beaucoup.
Je t'aime aussi, mais c'est different.
C'est un reve, un mirage,
mais elle me donne de l'espoir.

You had a key to every door
that I ever could have locked.

Now is it just convenience
that keeps these lines connected?

I'm clawing myself back to someone
better than I ever been;
and I can't say I did it alone,
but I did it without you.

In fact, I did it in spite of you.

I heard a rumor
that you were with another man.
I heard a rumor
that they saw you hand-in-hand,
and you were laughing
with your whole heart once again.
I heard a rumor;
I heard a rumor.

A new beginning,
it's my third move in two years.
A new beginning,
oh, another rental van,
and silent goodbyes
with red and bloodied eyes.
A new beginning,
a new beginning.

And things will never be the way
that they were before I left.
And though Kansas has taken a part of me,
I will find it in Tennessee.

Do you remember
our road-tripped summers past?
Do you remember
our stop in Omaha?
Then we were privy
to the shitty art scene in Des Moines.
Do you remember?
Do you remember?

I'm still believing
that this was all for the best.
I'm still believing
you will find all you had missed,
and we will someday
look back and see the truth.
I'm still believing.
I'm still believing.

And things will never be the way
that they were before I left.
And though Raleigh has taken a part of me,
I will find it in Tennessee.

Well, I tried to be the man you wanted to love,
but I couldn't see past the poison on your tongue.
Yeah, I tried to be the man you wanted to love.
I'll never do it again.
I'll never do it again.

And things will never be the way
that they were before I left.
And though Cali has taken a part of me,
I will find it in Tennessee.

Well, these walls are all white
like the day I moved in;
I prefer it that way,
'cause a few months longer,
and I'll probably move on
to another town,
another girl.

Part of me dying to leave,
the other half praying to stay;
Oh God, let me stay.

My lips remain sealed,
conscience boils away.
It scares me to think
that I'm not myself anymore.
An entire life past tense,
and now I'm on the defense.
Reserved and withdrawn,
I'm stoic, fuck content;
I'm far from content.

Well, I dug myself a grave
28 years deep,
lampshade on the sun,
a blanket on my eyes.

Maybe I should give up
like you suggested,
then my songs can be
our inside jokes.

Yeah, maybe I should end this
like you suggested,
then my songs can be
our inside jokes,
and all my fake friends
can have a fake funeral
with you
singing karaoke.

Oh, what a laugh.

My balloon has burst.
These atoms are free to roam
wherever they prefer.
Let them blend with the carbon
escaping your lips,
Let them burn in the pipe
we're puffing.

Where have the months gone?
Running down our walls,
like the paint that you spilled
expressing your evidence
for why I was the future
and he was your past.
The moment has passed.
The moment has passed.

This foundation's half-rotten,
and I'm floating onto the floor.
Watch now has tightened;
each second scratches
away all the shame,
scars surface on my wrists:
This clock I can't escape.
This clock I can't escape.

My balloon has burst.
Your lungs are burning through your high
without your inhaler.
Let me inhale her,
a sweet summer breeze,
the air I need.

Where have the months gone?
Barbed wire, broken bets,
tattoo this list of failures on my chest.
Let me see it and weep;
let me crawl in my shell,
a comfort to quell.
A comfort to quell.

This foundation's half-rotten;
these questions go unanswered.
Noose hangs empty
above a set of four photos:
north, south, east, and
now we head west.
And now the sun has set.
And now the sun has set.

Autumn paves this sidewalk
with a ticker tape parade.
"We're all dying," they say.
"Already dead," they said.

And all our calloused toes and fingers
reaching for this weekend.
"Just let it come," they say,
"Give us the strength to stay."

And hold my ankles in place,
my soles on the ground,
planted and firm.
'Cause I can't
feel His embrace,
I welcome this sound.
I reaffirm.

Now we're craving ceasefire
with our flags limp at our sides.
"We're both dying," they say.
"Already dead," they said.

I don't necessarily agree
with the beliefs that you're portraying.
I'm past the point of arguing.
"What's done, is done," I say.

And hold my ankles in place,
my soles on the ground,
planted and firm.
'Cause I can't
feel His embrace,
I welcome this sound.
I reconfirm.

And I hope you don't ask what I believe;
I can't give you an answer.
I guess I believe in
the soil that holds the grass at my feet,
and the leaves falling from the trees,
and the taste of your mouth
after you brush your teeth,
or finish your next griginade.

I guess, I guess, I guess
I believe in you and me.

I guess I believe in you and me,
though I don't even know you yet.

I guess I believe in you and me
'cause I gotta believe in something
to get me out of this Hell
that I've dug myself into.

I guess I believe in you and me.

Remember when everything was just okay?
It's perfect; it's beautiful;
it's everything you wanted, you say.
Remember when we were all innocent?
Remember when she wanted to be yours?

Well, whatever happened to that?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
those friends you used to have?
Whatever happened to them?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
those dreams you used to have?

Whatever happened to
the notion that you could change the world?
I bet you wouldn't believe
it was only a year ago
that you still had faith
in progress
and in yourself.
Instead, you try to convince
your best friend
to be as selfish as you think
us "normal people" should be.

So whatever happened to that?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
that faith you used to have?
Whatever happened to them?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
those dreams you used to have?

Whatever happened to
your concern for your fellow man,
when your blood would boil
over another soldier dead
or an innocent being imprisoned
by an unjustified hand?
Now you sit in silence
watching the nightly news.
You turn your TV off
and quickly forget
all the faces
and their names.

So whatever happened to that?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
that hope you used to have?
Whatever happened to them?
Whatever happened to you?
Whatever happened to
those dreams you used to have?