people don't live in place, they live in space
and
I know what folded pages means
I know it's got nothing to do with some girl on an east coast highway
no fingernails left
serious doubts popped up
i realized my favorite band had already broken up

i tighten my fist everytime we dive into the other path
i couldn't turn your autopilot off for the life of me

i didn't want to reach my hand to the corner of my eye
i had never seen my fingers so small
the yellow displaced the safety in numbers
familiar sets of letters bring negative connotations

this reminds me of sitting on the marble steps in front of Linda Lucas Dance Studio.
hoping a stop in sharpsville was on someone's to do list.

ipods flood the seats
they are partial to the way you speak
what a wonderful day for the other side of the bus