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lyrics

Yesterday you went to end it before it all got too real. In the waiting room, I counted chairs--the tension was all I could feel. The TV preyed on my attention and all I really recall was the luck of the contestants. The Price was Right: your problems solved. They were displaying you the cold tools they'd use while I was tangled up in my Hemingway blues. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I watched the girls drifting in and out of consciousness. They were pulling numbers down on Drew Carey's color wheel when I helped you spell Diazepam, though I couldn't really tell you how many milligrams, in that department, I am often wrong. But those Chelsea Handler books you read aren't helping your cause. I should've been getting right and on a new prescription. I should've been writing down all my triggers in a list of convictions. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I watched while you drifted in and out of consciousness. I went back to pounding nails and building better guardrails. In the fading season's reflection was the first time I saw myself: I was walking home down Western. Back then, I was always disappearing. They were displaying you the cold tools they'd use while I was tangled up in my Hemingway blues. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I held your hand while you drifted in and out of it.

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