You Don'T Know Me, I Break Things

I used to have these memories it's like they'd write themselves sowing me into scenes I never remembered being in A cross stitch hostage with my eyes flashing against the midnight black it's the time when the blood is the warmest taught, handcuffed to a moving car it races down these dead end city streets with the radio catching nothing but static and when we drive off the pier I can still recall the same familiar song it's mornings like this I drink to forget the night the whiskey masks the stubble the stubble masks the frown lines empty stomach yields water and nothing more how ancient these rituals are I am little use to the living these days regards to the heavens I've taken to these gutters watching ahead and I'm falling behind so let the sun beat in catching my pale white skin and turning me to flame your songs write themselves from these fingertips but my voice can no longer speak your name these are your instrumentals that I sowed myself into I've missed you for so long now I need to be a part of something need to feel real again