It's been three weeks and I'm still lounging around our dusty old apartment waiting on you to walk through the front door.
The sene keeps replaying
over and over again as if it were all a restless dream.
You tore out the walls and busted the tile floor, As I stood by,
I watched everything I grew to believe shift right before my eyes.
The walls use to scream plain white.
Now stained in yellow and black,
unsteady, they crumble.
And the floor, it creeks as cracks expand throughout the cold like pavement.
It use to shine.
I've thought about you, how persistent you were to make it out,
As the blood ran down your lips you whispered of another life.
You came in close and kissed my cheek
Then walked right into the next room where a girl just like me waited.
All I can see now is red, and the walls seem to have faded
Lying in this dusty old apartment
I don't think I made it.
