And I write this on a notepad
Full of hotel ads and missing dads
And it makes me realize
I'm no luckier than the next man.
These garbage seas and plastic cutlery
Are nothing more than a selfish plea
Like the money you ask for coffee
When you've got your hot-froth tea.

Don't try to draw his epitaph
Into much much more than a linear graph
Just connect the dots from a to b
From kiss to cold, from blind to sea.
And now you rest your troubled mind
Your weary soul, your soles unkind
And melt into her topaz eyes
Just like glass, they hold no lies

You see, they say I'm just scared of you
But they don't know what they're getting into
This story's long past told and it's begging to be written.
So I'd rather let it all bleed into
This perfect mess 'cause I won't leave you
It hurts, but now I know I'm alive.