Untitled (cont.) The Brave Little Abacus

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Every time I cry about your transience
I replace you with the thought of
The growing moon as I climb towards it
Tell myself "It's not too late"

And rest assured that I won't ever have to care
About anyone, because it's too late
And with you it, it gets harder to realize
It gets harder

Do you ever think about? You promised
I wanna die when you're not here
Cause I'm convinced everyone else
Thinks that I'm a dick
My ideals fog up my windshield
And I crash into the houses
They depict in their

In their songs

I want to be a part of you again
Face the crowds and turn back again
Rediscover why we're turning
Back away
From a town you say has lost all of it's meaning
In a way I can't see the town, I can only see frustration
And see a landscape, a blank, raw canvas