I lay around this stillborn Sunday
the nameless, graceless wreck you're leaving me
I sit silent at your waking theater,
deluded and grotesque I hemorrhage history
I won't be visited again,
by the ghosts of things that never came to be
I won't let my heart settle in,
to the fallow soil that sprawls out
from the fringes of the swaying Salton Sea
We let the hurried beat busy our bones,
but our tempo-tempered hearts are always idle
We drink the water from the fountain
This place could never be the things that we both need,
no, this place could never be the things that we both need
and I want
the things that I can't have
and I need
to find a new way out
and I will crawl, from the wreckage of my past
and we'll fall, head-first and weary of
the place we've hung our hats for all these years
Wait for the night, we'll disappear
I won't be visited again,
by the ghosts of things that never came to be
I won't let my heart settle in,
to the fallow soil that sprawls out
from the fringes of the swaying Salton Sea