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There's a playing card tacked to my wall.
I’ve never really believed in it.
I never claimed to be the king of anything.
I never even dreamed of it.
A bookmark to my senses, a reminder of myself.
The confidence of Kingston streets, it survived that day with me.
In my head I'm a terrible person.
Dark water where you can't feel the bottom.
I keep moving just to stay alive.
I keep killing just to pass the time.
I outlived a reputation that was dragging me down.
I know I'm still playing this crooked game.
‘Cause it's the only game in town.
Modern classic, pointless romantic.
Keeps me in place on the slow train.
I try and shake the guilt that comes from living on the run.
I try and say it's for the best or it's just what I've become.
So don't forget me just yet. I know I came back and I left.
"I know it's crooked, but it's the only game in town." - Canada Bill Jones. Referenced in Neil Gaiman’s American Gods.
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2. |
This Is My Dillon Now
04:02
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I kept the key to my old house and sent it on to you.
So you can keep close and live in my past mistakes.
You know I miss that place.
So wear it round your neck everyday, and you can tell everyone
It's a cool reminder of another time.
You never even came by.
You think the locks you pick will make it worth it.
(They don't even exist)
Now I’m wasting my time on a broken phone line,
That used to tell me the truth.
The locks were changed before I even left,
A burnt bridge to a new address.
I still know the way to your front door,
I just can't face the journey any more.
You said you wish you could forget.
Rewind the time, a spotless mind.
I can't think of anything I'd like less.
I'll wait up every night until you break into my latchkey life.
I'll wait up every night until you break into my latchkey life, until I wake up with you worn out by my side.
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3. |
July Inside
03:40
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I wake up with morphine shakes in a recovery room.
For once I feel like hell and I didn't dream of leaving and I didn't dream of you.
They scarred my skin and tried to fix me one last time.
Before I could escape. Before my life came back to life.
I live with memories of white walls, and late night calls to a hospital.
I swear I’m alive.
Lacking the strength to leave or hold on to the books I've been dying to read.
I'm craving escape, get me away from this life saving place.
Another week of pills and all this time that I can't kill.
If I don't owe it to myself, then I don't owe it to anyone else.
Just broken dreams and white walls, and late night calls to the hospital.
Tell me I’ll be all right. If I just spend July inside, I’ll get out of this year alive.
It's been a hell of a year, the speakers have me prepared to sit back and wait for the next medical scare.
Don’t wait for me I’m living by the clock. Hour to hour getting out before it stops.
Another week of white walls and late night calls to the hospital.
Tell me I’ll be all right. If I just spend July inside, I’ll get out of this year alive.
All along, this empty house beats being lost in a hospital.
I never said I’d be here forever.
Lost in the hospital.
‘It’s been a hell of a year...’ – Paraphrasing the first lines of Sage Francis’ song ‘Hell Of A Year’.
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