Upper Middle Class

We paid for new ways to avoid one another
A tv that fills up one side of the room
We stare at our phones now (instead of each other)
And silently wonder just how to break through

To the other side of the silence
Where distance is only a story we tell
When we hold hands and know that we made it
We’re making it still… can we please make it still?

Our house is on fire; I’ve got matches for fingers
And my gasoline tongue isn’t helping at all
So try as I might to repair what I’ve broken
I only set fire to each bridge that I build

To the other side of the silence
Where distance is only a story we tell
When we hold hands and know that we made it
We’re making it still… can we please make it still?

Someday, the words will come easy again
I’ll stop all this hiding, you’ll let me back in
Our family’s not here; we don’t have to pretend it’s okay

I’m in the back yard destroying the branches
That hang low enough for my golf club to reach
Destruction’s the one thing I’m naturally good at
It might take all year for the leaves to return