Sunset on snohomish.
Burn the tree line down.
Hold my hopes underwater,
Stand there and watch them drown.
Fishing out their bodies,
From the bathroom sink.
Leave them in a bucket,
Til they start to stink.
I think I'll stay here,
Til I feel whole again.
I don't know when.
Trout swim past the fishing lines.
Sky gets dark and close.
Cars start up and make,
Their nightly exodus.
On a picnic bench alone,
Watch the sky go dark.
Dig my nails into my hands,
Hope it leaves a mark.
I think I'll stay here,
Til I feel whole again.
I don't know when.
