Weakend This Is For The Understanding That We'll Never Be Understood
This is the last night I'll be writing you.
If apologies mean nothing than neither do these photographs that hang on my wall.
So, let's look at our inhibitions and try to envision
how fun it would be to be tied up in the backseat with a brick on the gas.
It would be easier if we could talk this over
but I'm not nearly sober enough to think this through.
It's times like these that keep us addicted.
It's times like these that make starting over sound right.
So, I've been walking with vampires
because they understand my need to keep my arms around her waist while marking her neck.
C'mon let's get back to the basics one last time before you die.
Can someone pass me another glass of gasoline?
I can't wait until I breathe flames that burn every precious memory.
Turn up the stereo. Drown in our sorrow.
Take out the cards and the dice
because I'm gambling with our lives tonight
and this one lane bridge is getting so much closer.
With every we breathe we take we're lying in the ditches,
headlights chase our ghosts, displaying scars and stitches.
As I watch your life pass through the rear view mirror
this tourniquet won't hold much longer, blood is flowing and I'm getting dizzy.
If I wake up tonight you won't see the light of day.
So, take this straight to your f..cking wrist
because the edge of a razor talks better.
