The car is up on blocks
The engine will not turn
The rain comes through the roof
The wind has called in sick
The anchor will not drop
As the ship drifts towards the rocks
The trees have all gone bad
Their trunks have turned to stone
The workers have moved on
The door is rusted shut
The windows boarded up
The street lamps have burned out
Don't say that
The grow of the machine
A steady beeping pulse
Measure out the long nights by your side
The paleness of your skin
The stillness of your hands
Unfamiliar in fluorescent light
I wash my face
Wait for you to wave
And ask me if i'm ready to go home
But you don't say that
