No phone, lost phone
An empty void in my pocket
Right leg now too loose for tight pants
Left leg just right
The pleasure of the pressure of the wallet
In the pocket of the jeans
Surrounded by one million old vibrations
And I don't know what they mean
I'm hanging out with seven smiling strangers
And I don't know how to breathe
Two of them are sober and I feel like
They don't know what to believe
These days it seems like I own
Things and things to put things in
All I do is sort through
Desktop files of my own baggage
And other people's I seem to be carrying
Leave those faces in the past
I'm afraid you can't
Leave those phases in the past
I'm afraid you can't
I'm afraid you can't
I'm afraid you can't
These days it seems I am
Running short on oxygen
All I do is wait to
Stand at perfect attention
Wrap my arms, chest to chest
Take one deep and honest breath
Blood rush in, hands run through your hair
As I can taste again