The American Scene

Hungry Hands

The American Scene


You're calm and cutting
I'm speaking softly in your passenger seat
On the finger points of deceiving
Withholding, and the difference between
You crack a window, clear the air
Meet quiet words with empty stares
I ask a God I don't know to get us home
Before this car explodes
We smoked and burned black

Dripped like wax from the devil's hands
That pooled into something I'm told resembled dishonesty
And with each word I stacked on top of the last
I could feel you pulling so slow
And so steady away from me
Don't put me away with your crossed out days
And filled up spiral notebooks

Carefully placed on shelves in case
You should care to take a new look
Your hungry hands held a home over my head
Ripped at my clothes, pushed into bed
We made so many ways to help ourselves forget
We smoked and burned black

Dripped like wax from the devil's hands that pooled
Into something I'm told resembled dishonesty
And with each word I stacked on top of the last
I could feel you pulling so slow
And so steady away from me
Don't be so sure that I'm overlooking details
Don't be so sure I've got nothing left to say

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