Dawson dreams. Dawson lies.
His lips are sweet but, his words are zip ties.
Everything draws everyone in,
deep swimming pools; dens of sin.
The water is dark, top frozen over.
there’s no light here, let’s not be sober.
Take off my shirt, trace our life on my back.
I don’t want a future, but if you’re here I’ll plan.
Draw our house, draw our rings,
we’ll have flowers and kids and things.
Rocking chairs rock when you push;
everything rolls when you’re a lush.
But Dawson dreams Dawson lies.
His lips are sweet – his words are zip ties.
Just let me go,