The Lawrence Arms
All the Week
Misleading utterings, shadow boxer, right hook mood swings
My endurance test, I coughed and bled and caught my breath
Tender in a burning sense
The way we spoke when we were silent
Repressed in living scenes
Black and white like old TV screens
Front porch confessional
Bottled feelings finally smashed against the wall
This is the virus
Sitting in silence
Armed with expression
With vague misconceptions
Came to me in a bleeding dream on filtered avenues of light
Blue serenity turned red angrily
Thought provoking in a distant tense
A perfect paragraph of broken narrative
These dusty floors don't seem to come clean anymore
I'm watered down, evaporating from the ground
Connections faltering
Dehydrated when the phone rings