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One missed stop.
You say you're tired.
I can say, "I'm not."
The vibes you put out
can be served on a silver platter,
because they hit the right spot.
I feel this foreboding sense that's
wearing at my soul.
My eyelids as well,
are hanging fairly low.
I'm tired of this lack of communication.
We're on the same train,
but our destinations
always alter and
they never stays the same.
So you see we may be together now.
We may even share the same path,
but, let me sit you down and
show you the math.
This journey we're on
will be pretty pointless.
That is to say,
if where we end up
our connection is joint-less.
Without so much as room to flex freely.
No give or pull.
No longer thinking deeply.
I hate these times
they're so absurd.
It triggers your rage
and your judgement gets blurred.
Woebegone looks are all I can muster
while reminiscing on the laughs we never had
and the way you used to get flustered.
We have to believe we can change our course.
I'll exchange my ticket now,
it'll be exactly like yours.
It took all I had left
and now I'm piss poor.
So do me this favor,
this one last chore.
Just lower your walls
and open your doors.
