Grip
The american sceneI still won't know where I belong
When the rain comes
You'll be a thousand miles gone
Picture me sweltering in an august blacktop parking lot
As I'm trying to get some sleep
I was carrying the dingy ring my mother gave me
When I asked if we could talk
And you just turned to face the wall
When the sun went down
We washed the salt off of our skin
And promised not to think about tomorrow
Until we had to.
You said it takes slow strong steady hands
To handle something delicate as this
I feel like screaming my lungs out
But I'm keeping my mouth shut
Picture me with my tongue between my teeth
'cause you don't want to talk.
I'll remember you when I point my body to the west
Because you said that you can tell the difference
From eastern states I'm calling time and time again
When I came home
I found your lips all chewed up and eyes bloodshot.
I had my knuckles scraped and black and blue
If seperate continents are exactly what we need
Then can we handle what that means?
And now we're sleeping
To the sound of the way things won't work out.
So we begin here at the end
The place the silence settled in and took a hold of you
It takes a toll on me.