Time dries up quick as rubbing alcohol.
That don't disinfect, it's six months since I called.
You read me wrong, throughout and all along.
I wheeze away and break the quiet threads, your fiction's binding.
These powdered confessions keep me right and here with you.
And I feel that much better when I write in prose to you.
I feel that much better when I'm right, in prose to you.
These powdered confessions keep me right and here with you.
And I've got proofs, my copy maid she read the truth.
Helped me revise, to twist the plot and turn me loose.
She cut some lines, and shaped them to my spine
a dedication to the one I loved, the path unwinding.
These powdered confessions keep me right keep and here with you.
I feel that much better when I write in prose to you.
I feel that much better when I'm right in prose to you.
These powdered confessions keep me right and here with you.
Outro