waiting on a Sunday afternoon
for what I read between the lines,
your lies.
feelin' like a hand in rusted shame
so do you laugh or does it cry?
reply?

leavin' on a southern train
only yesterday you lied,
promises of what I seemed to be
only watched the time go by,
all of these things you said to me.

breathing is the hardest thing
to do. with all I've said and
all that's dead for you,
you lied - good bye