Bethany Drive

I guess I shouldn’t be at all surprised The windshield’s cracked in at least three places But I can see well enough To keep between the lines Here on Bethany Drive This is Hell Why is attachment so slow to die? And now your pink crop top Is just a sweat-soaked mop There’s no bottom There is no way to turn back the clock I know you’ve changed the locks by now But God, I would kill to feel you A four second phone call A fist through the drywall A permanent place on your blacklist of regrets Yes, it was all my fault But I’m buried in your backyard And I’m driving in circles If somebody holds you down It’s best to just cut them out But I’m not giving up just yet Why don’t you look out your window now? There’s a car that’s slowing down Headlights fill the room The curtains start to move You feel the faintest breath upon your neck I’m only here because you are In my fucking house Here on Bethany Drive I am the sole occupant And you are an unwelcome guest Here on Bethany Drive I can change your entire life In the blink of an eye Here on Bethany Drive I am not moving out You are I cried for madder music and for stronger wine