In With The New.

I. Waiting

Waiting.
I'm always waiting.
For you to come through the door,
break this inexorable loneliness.
For you to feel, feel anything,
Feel real outside of this dream.
To feel, feel anything,
Feel real outside of this dream.

II. The Lost Girls

The alley was dark, calm and cold,
Smelled of alcohol and second-hand smoke.
Words were hushed, stepping on broken glass
Cutting our feet as we spoke.
Bleeding colors we'd never imagined,
Our childhood innocence pouring over dirty cement.
Graffiti brick walls surround us, alone,
Much too lost to ever find our way back home.
Whispered: "I'm lost, too. We could be lost together."
The sun never warned us, crawled through the cracks
Of worn-out walls and shattered bottles.
The sweet taste of sweat mixed with tears,
Swear nothing is better. We're barely awake, we're barely alive.
I'm lost, too. Just as lost as you. We could be lost together.

III. The Wilderness Meets The City Skyline

Whenever I bend, you break like a bad habit. You break.
Curled up on the floor in this wilderness, this three-bedroom apartment.
Or maybe you're playing it off in a dark alley somewhere, suffocating reality.
Or tangled up in bed, comatose and comfortably resting your drunken head.
Covered in sheets, barefoot dreams. Closed doors, broken mirrors, guitars.
Quiet and listening to the sound of passing cars. I must belong somewhere, to someone.
But I've found myself stranded here, behind this city skyline. Painting my toenails red.
I must belong somewhere. Consider this a signal flare.