I never felt more at home than you lighting the pipe for me because my hands were on the steering wheel
A hundred thousand miles an hour
At least across the Oregon border
Black metal, full volume
There is no way that i could hear you
If there was anything to say
Maybe I hate myself
I hate the body I was born in
Or I love you

Now I am high on opiates
Low on self-esteem eating top ramen in the shower
Standing all by myself next to you
At the end of everything that matters to me anymore
I cannot see you through the fogged up glass
That I am looking through
I cannot see you through the fogged up windshield

I never felt more at home than our impenetrable fortress of blankets on my kitchen floor
But the innermost wall fell so
We fall back to the last reserve of heat
That we kept in each others mouths
I never felt more at home than
Three hundred and eighty one miles away from home
Orange County nightmares of stagnancy
Orange County nightmares of stagnancy