Absentee

Daylight in the east over Thunder Bay.
You laugh like you're crazy.
Wading through a drowsy communique
as I blow smoke off the second floor.
Scribble what you do, erasing what you'll quit.
Since you don't leave the house, I'm it.
You're a jigsaw puzzle but none of the pieces fit.

The Fuller House is a place to hide when traffic gets backed up outside.
Just close the blinds before they break your heart in two.
We block out the sun 'cause it shows too much
there's bottles we've still never touched.
Nothing beats having nothing else to do.

Talking to the trees, remember what I said - "you're kind of amazing"
- and I still got your voice buzzing in my head
as I make the climb up Dorseto Hill.
Up a sleeping street and into 303.
Want more of you rubbed off on me
so for the summer months I'll just get marked absentee.