Demolition.

Demolition.
L.Robbins.

You’re the train that left it’s track,
Ploughing furrows, deep and black.
In your head and home alone,
Too much cancer on your phone.

And I hate to watch you 
stall,
But I love it when you 
call.

I can’t fix what it isn’t broke,
Like those thoughts you never spoke.
Feel the rush and ride the night,
Speeding highways, fleeing the light.

And I hate we run this
race,
But I love this wrecking
place.

People-watching of every hue;
Pink, brown, black and blue.
Break tradition, not go back,
When we’ve crashed and left the track?

And I hate you when we
fall,
‘cause then, I want you
more.

                             
                               ली