In a Motel

And so i left when i was just a boy.

I swore i'd simply do it all over again.

And now up the hill with snow-bit,

Blue-tipped fingers, blood from falling,

But i can't go back there no more

In frozen poses, venues lined with pillows,

Atlas shouldered some silly blunder or other

You ask for more than this,

But i don't know what more than this is.

Is it a motel,

With a fashion magazine,

In between towns?

I was thinking about my mother

And i wished ill upon myself.

Rachel don't come around here no more.

I hear she's living in montana

With her brother. i wish her the best,

And i hope she can forget me.

But the ghost that comes around

Is a dead-ringer for her.

I see her in my nightmares,

Discussing modern literature

With her hands around my neck

In a motel

With a fashion magazine

In between towns.

I was thinking about my mother

And i wished ill upon myself.