We Spent Most of Our Life In An Abandoned Train Car
We spent most of our life in an abandoned train car
fashioned a bed out of cloth and some seats
there was no room for both so I took the floor beside you
but there were bugs in our pillow and beneath the sheets
We lived off old paychecks I lived off your love
still I insist that I owe loans for both
I gave mine so sparingly I thought I would rust
but steel does not oxidize nearly as much
You'd sit with your glasses on lost in your work
while I played the radio and painted a while
I painted you young and I hung it up after
you said: "turn down the radio, my head's a disaster"
This place feels constricting the walls are so cold
and for the first time I feel all my years old
you still sleep on hard seats, they are filled up with ghosts
and I'm still sleeping under you, we try hard not to touch
Theres a churning of metal, or maybe that's me
but at least the sound drowns out the silence that seems
to have moved as a tenant though I can't tell you when
but its much better company than I've ever been
I'd open my mouth and try to ask you these things
but all that occurs is the rustling of sheets
as I breathe out a sigh since I don't have to speak
your ears are a desert, my lips the red sea
One night you awoke me from two fitful rests
you must have moved in sleep, your breath mingled with mine
when you lifted your eyes I saw they were bright blue
it was a color well suited for you
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