Broken Bones And Death Trips
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Broke every bone in your body
for all I know,
gone halfway to heaven before the devil's seen you go.
The years are changing from far away,
and I'll wake up in Nebraska on New Year's Day.
You put your brakes on like a sinking suspicion,
and tell me what have you got?
No control over old libraries
of useless thoughts.
I think someone should hit you.
They should hit you where it hurts,
with sticks and stones and break your bones
and leave you in the dirt.
The things that they say behind your back
are too treacherous to be anything but fact.
And the future's so bright
that it's fight or flight
to the sound of a siren song.
When you don't know better you put off
what you can't prolong.
Wish you were here,
we'd start the year on a death trip.
Wish you were here,
we'd start the year on a death trip.
Wish you were here,
we'd start the year on a death trip.
Wish you were here,
we'd start the year on a death trip.
As the clock struck midnight
in another time zone,
all I could think about
were your broken bones.
And as that car swerved
from side to side,
for the first time in a year
I felt satisfied.
But like every feeling,
I felt you, felt it first.
And everytime I hurt, you felt it worse,
and the times I knelt to receive your curse
are in the ditch by the side of the road.
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