I'm not Robert Frost
If I wrote a poem about the weather
It would start in my car
Digging out
For an hour
And this town is all just dirt and earth
And a little lie
And a bigger hurt
No, I shouldn't have
Left my house in the first place
I guess
But I always go back to where I'm meant to be
I go back to where I'm meant to be
So on a polar high that I found one night it was cold outside
Were your frozen hands are so much like mine
But they don't compromise
Now I'm looking at the ground because I don't want you to leave
I know it's co-dependent
But I think it's kind of sweet
Out of every person in this city
I could ever meet
Leaving feels like losing
But I'm learning what I need
I go back to where I'm meant to be
I go back to where I'm meant to be
In the morning
I want to know when it stopped
The eye of the storm
Everything is not what it was
And I'm not Robert Frost
I wish that I'd replied
I wish he hadn't died
I wish a lot of things
The day you lost your dog
And I lost my car
Was a Saturday
But the frozen air
And the frozen ice
And the biggest hurts
And the boldest lies
Are gonna disappear
Like the melting point
Like my melting rules
Like my melting life
I go back
To where I'm meant to be
I go back to where I'm meant to be
In the morning, in the morning
I want to know when it stopped
The eye of the storm
Everything is not what it was
I want to know when it stopped
The eye of the storm
Everything is not what it was
And I'm not Robert Frost
I'm not Robert Frost, if I wrote a poem about decision it would start and it would end in the same place