I’m not as clever as I used to be
and words tend to slip through my fingers these days
You could call it falling apart, or I guess I’m just growing up
in this town I now see as nothing more than a rut
I’m counting the days until I’m getting out
getting around to not counting myself out
there’s no way I can even explain how tired of this I am
no metaphor in accordance with my plan
maybe there would be if I had one
yeah
I’ll just end up sinking in this town like every one of them
like their parents and the rest of their families
never amounting up to what they were supposed to
my head spins with shades of grays, blacks, and blues
as I drown in “I love you”s when all I really want is to get away
the weight of the world is suffocating me
when all I really need is some air to breathe
even though you could say I’m already dead
I’ll lift up my head
crawl into bed
and face tomorrow instead
of choking myself up and using my lungs as an excuse
to run away from my problems
I’m never gonna solve them
