Feeling like a bag of bones, shriveled up and cold.
Nineteen years old.

Is draining out all of my insides
on the floor every night
supposed to make me feel alive?
What would things be like
if I told you I wouldn't mind
swinging from the tree outside?
Would that be alright?
I hope you don't mind.

Feeling like a bag of bones, shriveled up and cold.
Nineteen years old.

A train nearby reminds me I'm not the only one
who feels left alone.
At least it's got some place to go.
A train nearby reminds me I'm not the only one
who feels left alone.
At least it's got some place to go.


by Gabriel Leite