You’re no good for me, but I guess not bad enough.
And on quiet nights I come to find you crawling through my kick drum
Hell bent on deliverance of all the privileges
of being with you, Heaven sent I crane my neck
To watch you desperately march down my chest, enjoying every step.
Emphasized by distances we never intended.
You come crawling back through my regrets to remind me what you said…
"We’re no good at this."