Stop sign side ways
headlights display
fear that breathes in darkness
turn right then straight
sharp lines blurring
and your voice cracks like glass about to break
you open up the drawer where you keep your silent contentions
and I see your hand tracing her picture, going on ten years or so
and so what
Indications all read like it's the same
but maybe not
The curse under your breath's that nothin' ever changes
and we go out to a bar dressed like it was some kind of event
Some living
And we empty out our pockets for what is nothing but a scam
and I hear that you're wasted and driving yourself home again
Same old same
Same old same
Same old same
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