Written in Another Writer's Notebook
and these memories of us are a never ending shitstorm
full of
love and
hope and
tears and
And I've tried running from these obligations carried by them
(Running is a specialty of mine)
but my lungs are starting to burn
and I can't tell if it's from the cigarettes or the 15 miles down
you are my favorite narcotic
but lately I've been turning to nicotine
my memories are a movie I never wanted to sit through
because hours and hours of the same breakup scene gets kind of old
and when you run out of tissues
you're stuck sitting there in an ocean of tears
and not even the cigarettes can help me forget
