Foot Ox
Lucky Strike
I cannot be the comfort
You lost when you were nine or so
I can't fill those big old holes
Thought you knew that about me

I never want to wake up
Living your faint memory
I want to wake up in your bed
Fucking scared
Pushing through the bullshit
And working up the nerve to speak

So I cannot fix your car
Or find you another dead end job
So let's lay on this carpeted floor
And draw with crayons