I wonder if while we speak on the phone
you imagine what would be if we never left home.
Would the tears that clean the dirty cinderblock wall
ever even surface at all?

Fighting, the past; constantly brought up
defense tactics drawn from your red cup.
Defenseless, I drop guard,
it was never supposed to be this hard,

forgetfulness is not described as a sin,
endurance of a track athlete, running thin.
I try to figure out where all of this going
A car engine before it stops snowing.

The struggle never seems to really end
washing my hands, but never are they cleansed.
Precedence that I'm unwilling to let go
an anomaly that I’m not ready to throw

away with the tactics and away with the shit
away with everything that weakens this
I cannot stand anything less than you
As much as I try I cannot seem to get this through

Walls that you’ve built to keep people out,
will never stand tall with reasonable doubt,
continuation of malice trend
will bring great things to abrupt end.