Title Track

Left uninspired by the crust of railroad earth that touched the lead to the pages of yout manuscript. I took my thumb off the concrete and saved up all my strength to hammer pillars for a picket fence. It wasn't quiet what it seemed: a lack of pleasantries (my able body isn't what it used to be). I must admist I was charmed by your advances: your advantage left me helplessly into you.
Talking how the group had begun to splinter and I could taste your lipstick on the filter...
I tried my best to keep my distance from your dress but call-response overturns conviction every time. My memory cannot recall: a wave of alcohol we shared a cigarette and shaved the hours off.
Lushing with the hallway concregation, my best judgement signed its resignation.
I rushed this. We moved too fast, and tripped into the guestroom.