The Machinist

And what if this picture could speak?

Would it fold together memories and mould you onto me?

Would it bite away your ankles and way you in the sea?

Or would it back track on overdrafts and brick walls in defeat?

Would anything remain?

Into this scrapbook I breathe

If this phone wire lets you, will you receive?

Because if wood tarnishes and frames crack upon letters sent from me

And if we block off all the roads would you be hiding in between

Would anything remain?

If I made this all out to me

Would the birds circle and disappear apologetically

Or would they stay around long enough to see me in defeat?

And would they come back when the morning comes hoping for someone new to meet?

We'll see

Would the clouds take shelter in the trees like normal people do?

Until the overflowing river made a meal out of you

And when the water breaks it gives me time to take a piece of the afternoon

And I can go home and put it next to the star I keep locked away in my room

This stars burning for you