I'm thinking back on every consequential action. And we all die alone, with our fears dripping out our mouths, and our ears are wide open to hear any kind of good news. I'm feeling lonely again, and mostly tired of this place like every town that I have lived in - I've burned them all down. Just keep your hands where I can see them, because I know you're selling guns on the corner outside of my hotel room, and I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear a single word, just any kind of good news. So I'll just [bad word] as far as my feeble legs can carry me. And I made it the coast, and I'm standing on these rocks waiting for any wave to wash me out to sea. But all I can hear is airplanes over me. I can hear [bad word]  I don't miss you like I used to. I only miss you when I want to.