I wish it was you, the car rolling down the street. Wondering when we’ll talk, I’m so simple to defeat. The stale taste of smoke, hints of morning breath, the cards in my hand are all that I have left. Play your game but deal me out. 8, 9, and 10. I’m down for the count. This natural defense of putting up walls makes everything so easy come to a dead halt. Hands clenching the phone, this house is not my home but even back there, can’t say I do belong but there’s no place I’m at home outside of the song.