I'm done crossing finishing lines to find you had left,
Done building bridges over rivers that have dried up,
My tears that have dried up,
and they left nothing but dust.
There is something I must say to you,
Because if there is one lesson you've taught me,
It's to never trust a text message.
It's like a busted tire on the freeway heading towards the edge of a cliff,
You can't deny the inevitability of falling.
The few seconds we have during free fall will leave me dangling on the idea that maybe, we could have turned a little earlier.
Made a few different choices,
Gotten a tire change,
This idea can change.
Along with the beats our hearts sing to,
And I've always been a little sharp,
But I'm sure you'll find a way to tune me,
When you leave my strings to settle in the reverberations of a door slam.
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