engine, forgive my sins
carry them up in dashboard heat
swallow the things i couldn't keep to myself
MI is cold as hell
and the snow stacks two feet deep
so my shoes can't carry me to your house

panic, still in my mind
treating your skin like real estate
something to keep the rain away from my head

do i really need an escape, do i really need fake convalescence
do i really know your face, and do i take the second train home
draw the cracks in my forehead, line them up and fill them with your own thoughts
it's the things i recognise that i have trouble spinning lies towards when i'm lost
i need a panic button to call to waste my stupid time
and i need a twin sized bed to lay that book you wrote for me down to rest

right hand, drawing lines
paint out cities in your palm, show me what the future holds across town
left brain, analyse my crimes
show me all the things i need to keep balance between me and myself

do i really need a slow pace, do i really need to bring myself down
will i ever see you again, walking past or driving back to my house
wrap the wires round your wrists, and call it off while i'm still second guessing
it's difficult to say these things when i'm not really sure about what i mean
i need dividing lines to make some sense of where this died
and i need a ballpoint pen to write it out across the notebook in your eyes

i'm gone on the side of a road
i'd sooner stop for you than figure out where to go