My July

I miss you,
But half the time, I am actually missing you.
5 phone numbers at once, I can’t even call you! 
The shelf life is short, I mean the SIM cards, I suppose. 
Are you just keeping your head low? 
Riding around, making doe? 
Or is the bally down? 
The strap out? 
I don’t know what to do.
Everytime I hear the gate go, I pray it’s you. 
Coming home,
off the road,
Where I can see you and touch you. 
I will work with ya.
Be at home for ya.
But where the fuck are ya? 
Dead, locked up or avoiding me?