Bleach-Stained Ticket

A torn ticket stub in a cold hallway

It smells like bleach and yesterdays

A blocked contact still inside my head

Rewrites the text until the sparks are dead

Trying to make it dull

Trying to break the pull (ohhhhh)

We rewrite the lines

Under silent signs

We are running out of empty road!

Heavy hearts under the heavy load! (yeah)

Still hum the tune as the engines roar!

Another hallway, another door

We sweep the ash

off the wooden floor

Dull words

on a glowing screen

The quietest ride

you have ever seen

Break the pull! (go!)

Motorcycle

quiet In the hotel night...