Still Life

Coming down with something I suspect Nothing works to make it better Least as far as I can tell I can rearrange my life to suit you more Don't have anything this evening Heat my dinner up by seven and then call it I've been staring at the wall Call it gambler's intuition but I think it's getting closer I don't know how to prove it to you now But I bet it won't bet long before I Start sleeping in the closet And I know that I can't go for much longer Could you make the next one a little stronger, oh Take another moment to reflect Turn the laminate to mattress in the spring Watching headlights start to blur Hard to see them from this angle but you know the sound It's a busy night Light a candle, let it burn out Leave me hanging on your wall Like a still life of a Tupperware container Half the worth of the frame Leaning gently to one side As the weathering gets closer to me There's not much of a turnout Heavy paces on my ribcage Desire paths and switchblades I don't know how to tell the two apart anymore Conversations with the mirror Haven't made my head much clearer I spend the evening lying on the carpet floor Star-shaped gaps up on the ceiling Window shattered, paint is peeling It starts to fall apart, no reason why Putting holes into the walls When my frame begins to fall You don't have to give me one more try