Ian Felice
Tachycardia
It's a mass grave, adollar-fifty resting place
On the north face, it's a rope I've gotta climb
I'm a stone's throw from everyone I love and know
But I can't show up looking like I do

In an old suit, my hair is slicked up back nice and smooth
In a courtroom, sweat rolling down my back
It's a bad dream, I have it seven times a week
No it's not me, but I'm the one who has to die

Needs a cold draw to slow his tachycardia
In a dark bar the world just melts away
And he feels fine if he can just lose track of time
It's a good sign when he can't stay awake

On a slow day the rain against the windowpane of the café
She spills the coffee grounds
And the same thought hits her like cinder block
Life's an odd job that she don't got the nerve to quit

Yeah it's just there at the bottom of those spiral stairs
It's the World's Fair, the future's on display
In the still night, they turned on the electric lights
And the crowd cried out, everyone looks so amazed