The arc of decent: dancing in a motel just west of lincoln

There's a gun on my pillow
'Cause I'm just ash and dust
And all that you love, will be carried away
There's a gun on my pillow

I don't hear any saviors
Knockin' on this yellow door
I smell piss and heavy cleaner
I hear fluorescent bulbs
But I don't hear any saviors

Either way
I countdown the seconds
Either Way

When they find me in here
Between twin double beds
The blue smoke will hover
Still round my head
And they've seen this all before
In a thousand different ways
Another cry from the lonely
Lost and afraid
And outside the world moves on

The world is just an ashtray
Collecting what's used up
There's no comfort in knowing
It's filled to the top
The world is just an ashtray

I am distant thoughts and tiny secrets
I am the drink in a word
And out beyond the rail on highways
I dreamed of love
Please, please, oh

I am immersed
And love forgets

And all that you love will be carried away