funny, when you're dead, how everyone starts listening

and i actually feel dead some days.
hours upon faded hours,
solely spent working my summer away for cash.
a penny for my thoughts?
or maybe a dollar to just give a fuck.

same things, on my mind, everyday.
and it just digs deeper.

this town is so washed up.
is this what i'm supposed to call home?
faces here have been turned to grey,
along with the secret places we used to escape to.
everythings just filled with smoke now.
like nothing ever really existed in the first place.

i wish i could say i'll be around,
and that i'll gradually fall back into place,
but hell would i be lying.
maybe it's because when i'm here,
i can't help but notice a little bit of you in everything.
and i'm never bitter about it...
let's just say i'm finally over it.

sometimes, i wish i was your favorite ghost.
sometimes, i'm glad you still can't figure me out.
and sometimes, i feel nothing at all, and wouldn't trade it for the world.

but for whatever reason you might come upon this,
i want to thank you for today.
although you've slowly become a stranger,
i trust you with those secrets.

thank you for seeing how uncomfortable i was on that bench,
and leading me past the fence like you used to.
thank you for reassuring me that i can still sing,
and giving me the advice i've been searching for.
thank you for knowing the look on my face,
as i hid behind my technicolored curls.

love chewed us up and spit us out cold,
and in that moment, i swear we were infinate.
yet again, still miles away, i believe we're finally comfortable.