I lost my ticket again,
stuck in the lining of my bag,
with seams that seem to rip,
and thread together all the things
that I never needed:
lipstick and receipts
and calling cards to call home.
I wish that I could stay right on the beat;
replace my heart with a drum machine
so I can sing and not think.
I take my seat next to a man;
he checks his watch,
and looks then looks away.
The turn signal clicks like a metronome.
I can never follow those.
I'm always a little bit ahead.
I wish that I could stay right on the beat;
replace my heart with a drum machine,
so I could sing and not thinkg about anything.
Replace my mind with a battery,
So I can run without caffeine,
I can't live my life on coffee.