Upper Middle Class

We paid for new ways to avoid one another

A tv that fills up one side of the room

We stare at our phones now (instead of each other)

And silently wonder just how to break through

To the other side of the silence

Where distance is only a story we tell

When we hold hands and know that we made it

We’re making it still… can we please make it still?

Our house is on fire; I’ve got matches for fingers

And my gasoline tongue isn’t helping at all

So try as I might to repair what I’ve broken

I only set fire to each bridge that I build

To the other side of the silence

Where distance is only a story we tell

When we hold hands and know that we made it

We’re making it still… can we please make it still?

Someday, the words will come easy again

I’ll stop all this hiding, you’ll let me back in

Our family’s not here; we don’t have to pretend it’s okay

I’m in the back yard destroying the branches

That hang low enough for my golf club to reach

Destruction’s the one thing I’m naturally good at

It might take all year for the leaves to return