| june... before you bent to say goodbye i missed the mark and missed your train left raining on platform nine two blocks from the subway three blocks from being fine i crushed my brow with bent finger-tips tipping up to look at each raindrop before it hits there's nothing more i could fill in my center there's not enough room here where i am called justified i can't break you down i couldn't make you stay you ask for force guts giving breath from being so tired (i ran all the way here) that's the price of my lies wounded like a prize your eyes are more honest than we know and you left before i got there... |