I'll never be the comfort you lost when you were nine or so. I can't fill those big of holes, but you knew that about me. I never want to wake up living in your fake memory. I want to wake up in your bed fucking scared, Pushing through the bullshit and working up the nerve to speak. I'll never fix your car, or find you another dead end job. So lets lay on this carpeted floor and draw with crayons.
(I do not own this song.)















