You're like a constant crowding consonant I'm a claustrophobic, I, I said We're as comfortable as wool warming naked indifference Thank God, your words have come to rescue me from my sentence You're like a two stepping tongue on a flesh dance floor You're the eulogy I can't avoid anymore That tumor in my side celebrating malignance "Surprise! I'm moving in, I think I've grown on your parents" You want to talk about all the feeling I'm feeling I'm a passed out priest in an AA meeting And they're checking my pulse, trying to make a decision I've got those rolled back eyes but nothing's clouding my vision You're like a knock at the door in the middle of dinner From the friendly registered sex offender All equipped with a mustache and a windowless van You're telling me how much you've changed I'm trying to hide the crayons and no you can't come in I'm like your neighbor's hands on your father's throat "Sweetie, you go back inside, see this is just for adults" So adult is what we'll be, domestic violence in denim Each tumble down the stairs appeals your puff paint addendum You say I'm your backpack caught on a chain link fence But dear I'm a thank you card in the future tense I'm jumping out of cakes serving divorce papers I'd say I love you too but I'm all out of favors You want to talk about all the feelings I'm feeling Like your chalkboard wrists but I don't tally the meaning You keep forgetting the plot, let alone the long sleeps My eyes, they only know three words and each is pronounced "Please" And I would walk you home if I could find my crutches Probably listen more if you didn't talk so much Why don't you show yourself out How can you cry now, this whole thing's been such a drought? Alright La di da di da La di da di da da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da La di da di da da La di da di da La di da di da You want to talk about all the feelings I'm feeling You're a phone call home after eight long seasons There's a mail order bride and a baby that's teething Said the smog, it hurts your eyes, so on the next train you're leaving I'm not certain it's the smog, more just the constant grieving But you're dropping off the kid, sticking me with the feeding I said, "Oh, God dammit, you're so mean" You say I'll lose the Christian crowd if I say things like these But I've already lost them, I couldn't care less I guess my path, it just got wide, so I'll just wish you all my narrow best I guess that's it