I don't feel close
to any of your ghosts.
Can the fit feel better with physical distance,
when any little connection
surpasses your every expectation?
You can lay your whole life out, stretching ahead of you.
Drive through nothing but these one-off scenes, repeating,
passing all, leaving the horizon a ruby in your tail lights.
Find yourself smiling safe in a distant heart.
Distance is your one friend that's never too far
to calm you down
when you need sound.
Why do I
still find
the silence
so surprising?
I don't feel close
to any of your ghosts.
I don't feel close to any of your ghosts!
The best friend a man can have is distance.
It will get put between you
and all that shit in the common room.
You can lay everything out before your eyes or behind.
Drive through only these odd scenes, repeating,
passing all until the horizon is a ruby in your tail lights.
Find yourself running into distant arms.
Distance is your one friend that's never too far.
Everyone likes to cozy-up in corners,
their comfortable forms.
Comfort is a medication, slow-dripping in,
numbing your thoughts;
it quells your appetite
quiets your rhetoric,
and shrinks your dreams to fit
where they sit on a shelf
in porcelain and crystal,
too precious to ever be handled.
So, distance, keep me nervous!
Unknown, keep me moving,
on edge!
Keep me terrified and shaking every moment!
Paint it all red on a whim;
give me reason to exist!
