The strings of love pull at your every crevice
Letting the edges stretch just a little bit further
Towards the towns that you’ve never visited
Listening to the songs that make you feel
In a way that you remember how you used to feel
Did you ever put down the crayons
Pick up the bullet
Let loose the canyons
And howl at the wolves?
I’ve crawled back into my tent one thousand times before
Like the thoughts I’ve held onto ever more
Tomorrow I walk into the night
Leaving behind me the silhouette of what I used to know
In a way that I remember how I used to feel
And the paint begins to dry
Sloppy spots sprayed off the pages
Canvas caked with intentional strokes
Drying up by the rivers edge