Patch

you sat in a parking lot
your skeleton dancing from the tattoo
black ink pill on your arm
lying down
trying to see a new way around it
the sight of anything
a thread tear
a string pulling

stop messing around
it's gonna cost you
just to patch over
but god it feels so good
doing nothing
when the day is over

you sat on a bench in nicholas park
head full of regret
stretched hand out
hypothetical man
so pathetical now
that's what happens when you're selfish
you're held up
you're all on your own now
it's a symptom
not a rough patch
it's a hard pill and a bitter swallow
you dont abide it if it's not gentle

well stop fucking around
it's gonna cost you
just to patch it over
god it feels so good
doing nothing
when the day is over
you're part of the problem
when it's all done
what's the life you're leading?
your line in a song's not a divine healing