Bad Writer Lyrics

I write with my body

I write with my hands

My heart's no more

Than a hundred crumpled pages

Every desire

Every demand

Follows the line

My pencil traces

Panties where you left them

Socks miles apart

I'm living on the floor

Where my inspiration's gone

I'm bad a writer

With no imagination

I need to see you

To know what happens

You chase a dream

Through a sleepless night

Pain compounds

With additional miles

Cake crumbs in glasses

Glasses in the yard

Letters in the shredder

Ghosts in the house

I don't know what to do

So I do what I know

I put things away

Think of you some more

I crossed a line

That I tried to rub out

A smudge between

Curiosity and love

Through a carwash

With someone's best friend

You push the narrative

With your bare hands