Trainwrecks are Tragedies

It all starts with one time

you gave someone a bad sign

and they took it the wrong way

disguising their display

and they bottled it inside locked it

up in suicide but the clock still beats

each day with the same pace forced

against our will to change from intersection lines to lanes

so we fall down flights of stairs to see if anyone cares

they're like a deer in bright head lights stopping dead in the train tracks it's like an inevitable accident the screeching halt of tires marks the crash and our last breath as your frame sways on the wall your picture's nailed straight to a cross and the martyr is crucified and sags from thick blood loss or will we salvage pieces worn all of them scattered on the floor and put you back the way you want but no one hears your call so if the rope's too tight just yell the noose is tied around your neck as you're hanging from the ceiling (I'll take the time pay my last respects)