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