For the Boats

You were well dressed.
Some kid called you "fresh to death" and I just left
Through the back door thinking,
"Oh hell, I wanna go home".

It's like you never left, because your rotten stench is on my rotting breath
and it's scaring everyone to death and off like a flame to the neck.
Like a lit cigarette, you're killing me with every breath,
And every breath's another regret.
You're a cigarette.
You're cancer in a fucking stick.

And I'm sick of being chained down in this town
Like everyone else around, hands in my pocket, always looking down.
I'm sick of overpriced books.
Sick of the classrooms filled with nothing but dirty looks.
I'm sick of hating everything. I'm sick of every song I'll ever sing.

But I know, yeah I know there's gotta be more
Than all that surrounds me, all I abhor.
Like these frat kids in snapbacks with letters of their backpacks
Sewn on like a fucking badge.
Oh, please kill me
Or just promise me that there's something more
And tell me it's waiting out my front door.

I swear I would start today.
Oh, if only I could stop the rain.