Rats & Spit

I sit at my desk and think of things to write

But they're not words they're little rats

I crawl with them through the cracks in the pavement

We've found ways of getting through

Alone

With ticking clocks in my head

We're on the phone

And smiling with my every lie

Lodged in the asbestos

With my dirty little rats

I found the word that I've been looking for

(But I forgot so all this it's)

And when I get back, I will let you know how things went

Alone

With ticking clocks in my head

We're on the phone

And smiling with my every lie

I'm telling lies (alone)

I'm telling lies (alone)

I'm telling lies

I'm telling

Alone

With ticking clocks in my head

We're on the phone

And smiling with my every lie

I left my bike outside so long, it rusted; now it won't ride

All those things I said I'd do I promised (I promised), I guess I lied

And the rats I'm sure they're dead (everything is dead); I've packed them six feet under

Surfacing like water, like spit