Title Track

Left uninspired by the crust of railroad earth that touched the lead to the pages of your manuscript.
I took my thumb off the concrete and saved up all my strength to hammer pillars for a picket fence.
It wasn't quiet what it seemed... a lack of pleasantries (my able body isn't what it used to be).
I must admit I was charmed by your advances... your advantage left me helplessly into you.
Talking how the group had begun to splinter and I could taste your lipstick on the filter...

I tried my best to keep my distance from your dress but call-response overturns conviction every time.

My memory cannot recall... a wave of alcohol we shared a cigarette and shaved the hours off.
Lushing with the hallway congregation, my best judgement signed its resignation.
I rushed this.
We moved too fast, and tripped into the guestroom.