Cigarette smoke dances back in the window
And I can see the haze on the dome light.
I’m conjuring ghosts on a forty-hour ride home.
And they keep asking me what I’m doing with my life,
While my cousins go to bed with their wives.
I’m feeling like I’ve fallen behind.

Well the highway won.
I’m listening to traffic reports,
One on [bad word] quietly undone.
I was born [bad word] away from anything good
An escape artist’s son
With sun-drenched pavement in my blood.

The first thing that I do when I walk in
Is plan a way out for when [bad word] gets bad

And I’ve been looking for tears in the screen door.
(tears in the screen door)
I’ve been waiting for another disaster.
(another disaster)

I’m terrified like a kid in the sixties,
Staring at the sky waiting for the bomb to fall.
It’s all a lie, what they say about stability.
It scares me sometimes,
The emptiness I see in my eyes.

All the kid’s names I’ve ever liked are tied to tragedy
And I don’t want my children growing up to be anything like me.

I’ve been looking for tears in the screen door.
(tears in the screen door)
I’ve been waiting for another disaster
(another disaster)
But I was kind of hoping you’d stay.
I was kind of hoping you’d stay.

I keep a flashlight
And a small knife in the corner of my bed stand.
I keep a flashlight and the train times,
But you wouldn’t understand.
How could you understand?

Jesus Christ. I’m 26.
All the people I graduated with
All have kids, all have wives,
All have people who care if [bad word] home at night.
Jesus Christ, did I [bad word] up?

I’ve been looking for tears in the screen door.
(tears in the screen door)
I’ve been waiting for another disaster
(another disaster)
But I was kind of hoping you’d stay.
I was kind of hoping you’d stay.
I was kind of hoping you’d stay.