Kingdoms Telegraph Static
Day has arrived to shatter the neck of nighttime
Your plane it burns in sunlight, something like slow
motion
All that we can hope for in a situation like this
is to leave it with a little bit of grace
A dream at night, about your presence removed
The next time that I drop this anchor, let it be your
hands
A face like a lion's from fights on the subway
And a weekend of sleeping after your departure
Day has arrived to shatter the neck of nighttime
As I shield my face with these shaky hands
When the sun’s not in my eyes I see how lonely this place
really is
I still miss you, and the southwest sends its love
A constant cluttering of words with no ears to receive
them
At least promise me that you’ll send a letter once in a
while
I still miss you, and the southwest sends its love
