All I really know
Is that I'm never coming home
And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you so
I'm gonna go and get an internship
And then I'll get a job
And then I'll pack all of my shit up
And fucking go
I'll go to Mexico
I'll go to Canada
I'll mail myself to New York City in a box
You'll never hear from me again
Save for an envelope I'll send
Containing fifty billion dollars
And some photographs of dogs
For half of my short life
I've kept a drawer in my room
For all the little trinkets I consider gold
Photographs, bottle caps
Lanyards, flowers, crumbled maps
Things that look particularly old
The plan has always been
That I should throw them out the window
If the building were to catch on fire
Given the dogs are safe outside
But the drawer is full of trash
And I could turn it all to ashes
For the fleeting joy I'd get
From adding more smoke to the sky
I'll go to Mexico
I'll go to Canada
I'll mail myself to New York City in a box
You'll never hear from me again
Save for an envelope I'll send
Containing fifty billion dollars
And some photographs of dogs
Well, sharks are
Smooth if you pet them one way
They are spiky pet the other
And my mom said
That if they stop moving they'll die
Hammerheads swim past
I've got my face up against the glass
As I whisper to my sisters "as will I"
I'll go to Mexico
I'll go to Canada
I'll mail myself to New York City in a box
They'll never hear from me again
Save for an envelope I'll send
Containing fifty billion dollars
And some photographs of dogs
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
