Strange Town, But We're Calm

I feel as though I'm an old ticket stub

An old, movie ticket stub that's been in your pocket

Your jean pocket, mixed with a penny and loads of lint

Loads of lint sitting with me in your pocket as we enter

As we enter the washing machine

The washing machine is rinsing me inside and out

Inside and out and I'm slowly turning to lint

I'm forgotten like the heaps of lint in your pocket

In your pocket, I'm not even there

There is nothing resembling me

Me, no longer in your heart, or life

Life, it's breaking the rock that I am,

I am a rock that is cracking,

Cracking and slowly crumbling

Crumbling to my undeniable fate

Fate, that I was predisposed

Predisposed to destruction and end

End, for its death

Fixing your hair, you sound so angry

So angry, that you're slowing me down

When I'm going too fast

Too fast in this part of strange town

Strange town that's slowly burning

Burning me alive

Alive, but barely moving, barely breathing

Barely breathing for we're intoxicated off lies

Lies we tell ourselves,

Telling ourselves "it's gonna be okay"

Slowly burning alive, and we're not gonna be okay

Not gonna be okay in this strange part of town

Town that has us intoxicated off lies

Lies we tell ourselves

We're so calm