|
Trains on train tracks |
|
are made to come back |
|
from every place that |
|
they've ever been |
|
a 7:30 |
|
a sunday off peak |
|
I knew she'd leave me |
|
but not like this |
|
you know |
|
you're the reason |
|
that I felt alive out here |
|
for so long |
|
I've been waiting |
|
for my chance to disappear |
|
the wooden sleepers |
|
the girders lying still |
|
are cold reminders |
|
of what you had to do |
|
we're not like train tracks |
|
sometimes we have to move |
|
and never come back |
|
despite the things we lose |
|
you know |
|
you're the reason |
|
that I felt alive out here |
|
for so long |
|
I've been waiting |
|
for my chance to disappear |
|
This town |
|
is just a strip of bars |
|
and streets with common names |
|
it's strange |
|
to know you'll watch me |
|
as I slowly pull away |