bike ride

from by pockethands



its a nice day for a bike ride cause i got time to slow my head and think "what will i be making or breaking before i hit next week". cause thats the problem, i keep throwing out old memories in favor of new ones. my smoke-filled brain is bursting at the seams.
whats the point in looking forward just to stare at someones back? theres no right direction each step further from the path. i cant lie and say i've never felt so lost. (i cant wait for this to end and start all over again)
keep one ear to the ground cause this pavement will keep you down. the sidewalk on the street crumble: sweet concrete. the only thing that stays the same is the shame found in the game of waking up and strapping shoes on your feet.
(i cant wait to finally go, pack my shit and hit the road)


whose to say theres not a middle ground to tread, between toeing the party line and having one foot in the grave. i dont think that i'll commit, i don't think i have the time, thats another fucking lie i tell myself before i close my eyes. each and every night i see this place get further in the rearview of a car.
i held on to every single word, amended rules i'd broken that i'd never heard. stayed up and drank it black and drank it cold. holding to hope, and clinging to a rope.


from pockethands, released February 9, 2014



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pockethands St John's, Newfoundland and Labrador

kieran, derek, walt, glen.
mount pearl.

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