Cold Bones - Bad Luck.

Get me the fuck out of Florida

Get me back to that parking lot

Let me dwell in my run off thoughts

I’d be better off but not anywhere

I need wet feet and harsher air

Divorced Mothers and bedrooms where I can lay my head

And the fact that I had even tried

To change myself erase myself from stories that I wrote

(Led to fictional)

Traits to fit a state that I know

Was opposite but possibly home

But this place isn’t home

Give me back shitty train tracks and

Stole cigarettes shared with friends

School yard fights and the understanding

From parents that were misunderstood

Despite their efforts of doing good

I miss the dead grass and broken wood

That surrounded the whole

House that I would come to find

Would represent the first that I made and truly loved

(It's not enough to)

Change what’s in the back of my mind

Despite the things that I’ve grown to like

And I know it’s easier here to get by on my own

But I’d rather be in a hole at home

And this place isn’t home

Cold bones

You can’t take the cold out of my bones

When they’re brittle and they’re old

They’ll break and fall like snow

Thick and heavily stick to a Long Island street until

(I'm swept away)

Decaying and waiting for

3 months of growth to force new times to come

(But for now I’m just)

Burning every inch of my skin

(Cold)

Waiting for the summer to end

(Bones)

And I’m not naive to the fact that the choice is my own

Just right now I found something to grow

But this place isn’t home

Cold bones.