Sunset on Snohomish. Burn the tree line down. Hold my hopes underwater, Stand there and watch them drown. Fishing out their bodies, From the bathroom sink. Leave them in a bucket, Til they start to stink. I think I'll stay here, Til I feel whole again. I don't know when.
Trout swim past the fishing lines. Sky gets dark and close. Cars start up and make, Their nightly exodus. On a picnic bench alone, Watch the sky go dark. Dig my nails into my hands, Hope it leaves a mark. I think I'll stay here, Til I feel whole again. I don't know when.