The Focus, the Compass, the Contract in Hand

You were born with my fathers name which you borrowed until it broke. Port Richmond’s always had its hands on the drill. We took a shot of tequila, then went outside to share a smoke."This country will kill us before this cigarette will." We blessed these kinds of nights. We blessed our new addictions. Took a drag and blessed these kinds of nights. We blessed our new addictions, then we said our goodbyes and you disappeared like a ghost. You said “love laughs at locksmiths” so I found a pen and wrote that down. This was a punch drunk nostalgia. What stopped you? What’s with this place? There’s a million wayward folks in this town but everyone seems to begin again. Because if you’re not beginning then where the hell do you fit in. So, where the hell do you fit in? I don’t think that we should live this low, but where else would we go? I had no way of knowing this would be the last time I’d see you. I had no way of knowing what was hiding behind your eyes. Took a drag and blessed our new addictions. We blessed these kinds of nights. This country will kill us before this cigarette will.