never was the kid with the 8-track/
but a 1-track/ mind/ you can't sate that/ and a cassette double deck for the playback/
wouldn't ever let me down/
before i had the sickness/
i had the remedy spending these mornings just emulating melodies heard off the radio/
sung anthemically/ even angelically/
couldn't try telling me to press stop working these so low fidelities/
unless it was time for the overdubs/ twenty years go by, haven't sobered up/
sines my only drug/ why would i ever cut/
asked like suicide counselor/ i wasn't the mark, but i was around her/
they gave her labels, bottles over the counter but underneath the table/
she still hid the ink of a scar/
we used to sing in the dark/ by the swings in the park/ i was into her heart/
but you know back then everything was a spark all i know is that we lived for music/
for me, as the reckless and wry/ made me measure up, made me a sensitive guy/
the greatest pleasure in my world/ gave me pressure to thrive/ but for her it was the only thing that kept her alive/
strung along on violin strings she didn't have a life of violent things/
not in the physical/ but in the family emotions and rituals it got critical/ impossible/
couldn't believe what was hitting my optical/ trips to the hospital/ tired eyes/
both of us/ two bouts of new scars/ cigarettes in her blue mouth/
and then the story stops/ tuned out/ they packed up real fast and just moved south
and the only thing i have left is a memory/ so steadily sealed in a melody/
she had a tendency to get lost
come back, girl
