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Paths
Cluttered all my guts on the dying space of your front lawn
and I waited, and I watched the summer end.
I never lost my nerve. I figured out, if you were sure you'd signal and show me a sign.
In my memory from '94 you wrote 'here's my number,' But I never called.
I don't want to ruin the moments from that hallway.
These barriers and boundaries opened the paths for you and me.
I crossed the fingers on my hand that it always rains on your weekend.
I hope you're miserable.
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It was my crowning age. I was coming to terms.
Reverse-living summers in the past felt like my dying days.
Kept counting on a cross within our paths.
These barriers and boundaries opened the paths for you and me.
Cluttered all my guts on the dying space of your front lawn
and I waited, and I watched the summer end.
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