The sprinter

I can't control it when my blood is beating out of pocket
My heart is swollen on a section of the past
A small obsession with a sunny set of sterling people
Outshining everything about me very fast

I want the comfort only gotten when you gain perspective
To chalk it up to youth and bury it in time
But I can feel the chilly pull of beckoning regression
The kind that fights you like an army for your life

Old circumstances made a man of me but there's the question
What kind of man did I become?
Cold shoulder curls around my heart strings and it leaves me breathless
These demons keep me on the run

The conversation getting slower and my words are empty
The subtle shock of watching people looks away
I still remember standing frozen over kitchen tables
And looking up at golden crowded balconies

I made a promise not to drag it out and paint it vivid
I made a promise not to pick and pull and peal it back
But if a recollection turns into an old obsession
I'm gonna have to paint that motherfucker black

I'm walking away
Let the sun wash down my face
I'm walking away
Let the sun course through my veins