Tears burn the cuts on my fingertips--
washing minor wounds, ignoring the real ones.
From here on the second floor, it's so easy to see
the city sleeping; I want to sleep.
Instead, we'll drive through the dark, won't we?
Exit life at 59 North, exit 133.
I find despair in the difference
between wanting to die and not wanting to live--
it's that sinking feeling burning through my heart
that I try to tear out as it tears me apart.
Set me free from this vacuum in time.
Help me--I've found no solutions as of exit 133.
Even if all the small things couldn't get to me,
life ends at 59 North, exit 133.
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4 comments:
http://www.southeastroads.com/alabama050/i-059_nb_exit_133_02.jpg
Here, right?
Yeah, you're doing it right. I tweaked that song after driving along that road again yesterday; I had a flashback to the spring-summer cusp of 2000.
i like this.
Thanks. :)
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