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a simple word, are you there in the country? yr eyes so full, yr head so tight can't you hear me? remember our talk that day on the phone? i was the door, and you were the station with shattered glass and miles between us we still flew away in the conversation this is eric's trip we've all come to watch him slip he's slipping all the way to Texas
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what you think about,
why it seems so bad.
it's only escape,
from everything i know i'm weak,
i know that i'm sad.
turn on the stove,
in the little tiny rooms that our friends call home.
my head fills with heat,
from the knife in your hand to my sand.
eric's trip
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