I know your throat feels so damn thirsty
But the britas empty once again in the fridge
Im sorry Matt for being such an asshole
But the hole in the wall feels lonelier than it did
When I was seventeen
And the train tracks seemed so kind
Now my home town's on tv
And the worst part feels so far from over
And if Im not bleeding you can just assume Im doing fine
I know my hands seem dry
But just assume its cold outside
Im sorry mom, I've been lying this hole time
But dont you worry now, cause I've been talking to Caroline
When I was seventeen
And the train tracks seemed so kind
Now my home town's on tv
And the worst part feels so far from over
Theres nothing more miraculous than the
Exit 167 sign on the garden state parkway
The green glimmer glazed upon the horizon
Beckoning my name, distant but not forgotten
My heart is a factory off the New Jersey turnpike
Fumigating industrial waste into my paper lungs
My chest, six pedals and dyes for coloring
Hiding in boroughs disguised as Babylon
Writing off talking to my street as a reason to stay away from people
Well I know Im just terrified of people
I know that no matter how hard I try,
I am still drawn to the loading dock behind the poster cinemas
As it beckons our shared name: Home
And it hurts, that I still care
Im trying to forget it
But I cant, please understand
And if Im not bleeding you can just assume Im doing fine
I know my hands seem dry
But just assume its cold outside
Im sorry mom, I've been lying this hole time
But dont you worry now, cause I've been talking to Caroline
Let me feel alive