Record player static in the corner of your dad's attic
while I tell myself this will be the last song I write
drunk and stupid we walk to the liquor store
where I wanted to say I loved you
but I just couldn't find the right words.
I couldn't find the right words
was never good at the right time
I couldn't find the right words.
Now I'm just some ghost
covered in concrete and plastic
in the walls you call your home.
Your frozen processed food
in the corner of your room
and your father's downstairs
watching television.
Riding bicycles down the street
did you think you maybe want to meet
so you could say something to me
I just needed to hear your voice
I just wanted a whisper
and now I'm just your ghost
covered in concrete and plastic
in the walls you call your home
in the walls you call your home.
I guess it doesn't help now to say I'm sorry
I guess it doesn't help now to say I'm sorry.
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