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letra de david to sarah - hotel books

[poem]
i know you don’t want to talk, but i just don’t feel the same
i’ve seen more suitcases on your bed than times i’ve seen your bed made
bad days and sad ways to reconnect
i can live without you by my side, but i can’t live next to you showing neglect
i need a parental advisory sticker on my regrets
i need internal revival with dinner to find my vest
i need a maternal but fatherly figure to put a heart in my chest
i need bare rental of bodily fixtures to somehow feel the rest
i need poison in my lungs and in my heart
i need a staple gun with one bullet left to pin my insecurities to the front of my chest
i need forgiveness
i need a miracle
i need the miracle we call “forgiveness”
i need a witness
i didn’t move back in my dad’s house, he has sp-ce for a vacant body
the lab’s out and the results are down
the first failure of a forsaken robbery stealing the currency we used to bring peace
please, pray for the living
i’ll handle the deceased
when a swan song is a wrong call, block numbers and shock collars in a studio apartment by the locked cellars
where every word is poison but the poison tastes like honey and money is the exception to the words we cannot speak
it’s a breach of betrayal, a renewal of pain
stain after stain, cut the nerve to the membrane and escape through the release
i need less of what i have and more of what i lack
i need to forgive myself so i can have my friends back
i need to move up, i need to move down
the sound of my voice bouncing off the walls is always a letdown
so i set down the nightgown and hear the rain pound
the same sound on paved ground or bloodhounds making a runaround
making the sun go around, making gravity hold me down
demanding gravity’s attention every time i feel down
so cut the nerve to the membrane
chemically speaking, i pray to god when we can breathe in sp-ce
so the brave souls in grave cold can meet someday
and we can all escape
i need god to look less like me and more like god
i need to look less than me and more like god
and stop making photocopies of the same sheet music and use it to reach a pulpit
to each a steeple of gold, melt it down to a calf as i feel the pain in my calves
spitting on the face of a man hanging on a tree then begging on my knees to also bleed
so the grays that took place in my pain won’t feel so foreign even though it feels complete
i need to stop breathing quickly so i can breathe in deep
i need to wake up my heart but let my mind sleep
i need poison in my lungs and my heart
i need a staple gun with one bullet left to pin my insecurities to the front of my chest
i need forgiveness
i need a miracle
i need a miracle we call “forgiveness”
i need a witness
i need sleep

- hotel books

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