813 Maryland St.

She put a bullet through a Bible
And thought it would empower her
But she felt nothing and that’s all she needed
To finally feel nothing

She stopped by my house the next morning
And said “I’m sorry
But I still don’t feel like this life is worth living
You did all you can you do”

I looked at her with tears in my eyes
And said “Darling, I’m sorry
But I’m glad I’m not you"

She said “At least I know this is all temporary
But the carpet grains will still hold stains
Even when you die
You won’t have to face them
But they will remain"

She said she had enough baggage
To rattle the cage of rage,
Worthless, page after page
To rearrange the strange game of pain
Seeping further into a strain of remains

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She felt like the lone survivor of a civil war
Of inner peace versus inner desire
Hoping somehow to change

The casualties were her hope and her sanity
A damaging calamity of fragile ideals being washed away
When waging war against a staging of poor ideologies
That lead to death, but at least she felt something
And at least it all meant something

There’s no way to see beauty
When it's just the blind leading the blind
There’s no way to see beauty
When it's just losing love to justify lies

There’s no way to see beauty
When it's just the blind leading the blind
There’s no way to see beauty
When we lose love to justify our stupid lies

She said, “I watched my house catch fire and I didn’t feel a thing”
Well darling, congratulations, I wish I had that sort of inner peace
I’m digging into catacombs built beneath this frame I call a body
And expectations diminish as I uncovered
There’s nothing underneath hiding

She had taken what I once needed to feel I could be something
And I spent so long being bitter, but now I’m finally celebrating
Thanking God for those brief moments where my eyes met hers And she was caught in a life that felt like one rapid blur
The spur of the moment cure for her boredom
And my lack of adventure

We were caught somewhere between a pack of Menthols
She kept on the nightstand where she would sleep
And a broken down truck that used to drive her to her dreams
But now sat as an eyesore metaphor for the home
We created to nourish our weaknesses, the brittle middle ground
Sounding this rebound argument with God that we call living

It was nothing, not even trying to win any sort of race
I just wanted to finish, or at least sort of place
But as I kept running, I diminished the existence
I created out of love so I can breathe easier
When I tried to fall asleep in this ocean
Pushing me side to side on her
Her broken dreams, her broken dreams

She said, “It’s easier to fall asleep
Just knowing that when I have something to say
Somebody’s listening to me"

She said, “I don’t care if I have a plan
I don’t care if I understand
All I need to know is that I have some sort of calling
I just need to know that somebody is listening”