The Wonder Years - Cul-de-sac

I've been leaving messages on an answering machine in a house that's always empty, so I know nobody's listening.

I've been confessing my transgressions over tape hiss and the silence makes me sick.

No good can come from this. I'm letting go.

I've been holding on like poison ivy out of cold suburban concrete from this careless urban sprawl.

I'm letting go. We can't keep out of trouble.

I thought my kids would call you uncle.

I thought we'd never be alone.

I've got images of you inside my head outside of the gas station where we always used to shoplift.

It's car-crash rhetoric. We fucked up everything we came in contact with—just boyhood recklessness.

If you walked me home, you'd know how weak my arms got. I just can't carry you.

If you walked me home, I know I'd have flashbacks of snow angels and gut laughs.

If you walked me home...

but you won't.

You're all alone on some bullshit, pill-bottle vision quest.

If you walked me home I don't know when I would finally work up the backbone to walk alone.

I'm letting go because I loved you, but I have to.