So tell me about the months in my head.
Tell me what you think of this atmosphere.
How you're losing sleep,
And you can't pick up where you left.

Letters from you,
Found in the arms of voice mails.
How this year will burn a hole in my chest.
And how this isn't what you're looking for.

But you slept on the wrong side of the bed.
And all your blankets were cold.
Can you hear me?
It's been a bad year.

You found yourself in such a small town. And that means a lot to me.
I believed in things that reminded me of your hope.

Your favorite bridge,
Held less than what's on your shoulders.
I planned my very best,
To let you know you're in my head.

That I keep you on my coast,
That the highways are too busy,
Back roads make you lazy.
Darling, don't fall asleep at the wheel.

I know what colors mean to you, but they don't keep you awake.
The street signs are just warnings, filled with tragedy on every corner.
And you still think you have nothing to lose.

But I hope the mountains treat you well, because I never did. And that girl that lives right by your house, doesn't find home in your bed.

But decisions are found within actions, that you regret after. That wanderlust in your bones, doesn't make you travel a day sooner.