Rats & Spit

I sit at my desk and think of things to write
But they're not words they're little rats
I crawl with them through the cracks in the pavement
We've found ways of getting through

Alone
With ticking clocks in my head
We're on the phone
And smiling with my every lie

Lodged in the asbestos
With my dirty little rats
I found the word that I've been looking for
(But I forgot so all this it's)
And when I get back, I will let you know how things went

Alone
With ticking clocks in my head
We're on the phone
And smiling with my every lie

I'm telling lies (alone)
I'm telling lies (alone)
I'm telling lies
I'm telling

Alone
With ticking clocks in my head
We're on the phone
And smiling with my every lie

I left my bike outside so long, it rusted; now it won't ride
All those things I said I'd do I promised (I promised), I guess I lied
And the rats I'm sure they're dead (everything is dead); I've packed them six feet under
Surfacing like water, like spit