Thriftroom Wristband

(mhhmm) Behind the heavy velvet curtain

Under the fluorescent glare

You rewrite the words until they're certain

To leave no feeling anywhere

On your wrist, a paper band from last July Still clinging to

a dream gone dry

We collect the pieces of a life we didn't choose

In the fluorescent hum,

rewriting all the news (ooh-ooh-ooh)

Your fingers tapping on a glowing screen

Polishing the life right out of the scene

A thrift-store rack of woolen coats nearby

Underneath a cold, indifferent sky

Just a faded band of paper on your wrist

Another night we both dismissed (ahhh)

Rewriting

every line...