we walked next to a street full of speeding cars
we walked like they had stolen ours
the pace-car made for what was a hurried hour
you picked at love-me-not flowers
and I hope the worst ones come true
I hope I don't think the way that their screen taught me to
I know the low sound of a steady voice
‘if you love something you'd better profit'
and you wear a guard like your guard against a lie
the lie that told you to speak quiet
as something to look at on a screen
I hope you don't look at all pretty to me
painted a word on the side of your shirt
you can't be all they're defining
and I remain lost in my father's exhaust
and you can't just be a name to find
and in time, find us stuck
to all those terms made up
like a picture to hang on the wall
adolescent bedroom wall
on the wall
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