Title Track

Left uninspired by the [bad word] of railroad earth that touched the lead to the pages of yout 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 admist 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 concregation, my best judgement signed its resignation.

 [bad word] this.

We moved too fast, and tripped into the guestroom.