I write you letters all the time
I never send them, this is supposed to ease my mind
Exhaust restraint until I'm no longer inclined
Dock of the bay
You won't let me stay
Our excuses will always stay the same
Seemingly pressing things, stimulants, playing games
All our empty exchange crammed into a frame
Dock of the bay
You won't let me stay
It's not a choice it's just the slow praxis decay
Black coffee, motels, unstrung energy
Decisive days are becoming few and far between
Your diligent remorse doesn't mean anything
These rose-colored encounters are becoming few and far between
Our parents met on the backseats of datsuns
And we met on some stranger's floor last year in Washington
The evolution of a desperate connection
Dock of the bay
You won't let me stay
It's not a choice, it's your dismal, jaded display