A Hundred Stories

Woods walls and neon signs
They’re all elbows and eyes
And how they speak makes sense to the sound
Of the rain outside
They’ll make it sound so cheap;
Like mornings are all this fine
Sleeping through tears and slippery nights that will soon cake and dry
I’m not asking why
We left a note in your car in a place where you’ll look
And you’ll find out on the way back home, the sunset is someone’s
From fast clouds to clear sky
No one’s asking why
Through reflections and handprints
I can still see for miles
I see couches I could sleep on
And tell a hundred stores
Of fatherless friends and friendless fathers
And those who’ll notice that some can stay in while some are left out
And somehow we all fall asleep tonight