Traffic

this is the point

where the eye and I don’t meet
this is the point
that spells defeat
i have watched your unlove
written like tabloids
i had to stumble on buying my food
there you were
unfolded in headlines and horror
i love all those bits of you
i love all those bits of you
on the hardwood floor
where the bird imitates our fighting
you put the golf show on
to avoid my crying
you cup your arm to care
where the hurt went in
and well, why does it hurt?
complications of leftover racisms
why does it hurt?
you start the road trip off with accusations
of why does it

feel like i’ve been run over in traffic
scratchin in the dust of someone’s leavin
punches in my gut
oh look i’m bleeding
not for you, for me this time, this time
not for you, for me
this time

just for the record, there is no record
it’s a problem
there is no “this is what you said”
that’s already gone
all we have are our love
and our guts baby
all we have are our love
and our guts baby
they’re all over the road

you don’t know the difference
between anger and pissed off
one is doing and one is feeling
one is doing and one is feeling
and i’m feeling
i’m feeling

feels like i’ve been run over in traffic
scratchin at the dust of someone’s leaving
punches in my gut
oh look i’m bleeding
not for you, for me this time, this time
not for you, for me
this time

i need to be healed
i need to be healed

just saying it does it
just smashing it crushes it
just loving it douses it

just saying it does it
just smashing it crushes it
just loving it douses it
just loving it douses it

feels like i been run over in traffic
scratching at the dust of someone leaving
punches in my gut
oh look- i’m bleeding
not for you, for me this time, this time
not for you, for me.
not for you, for me.