you seen that boy with his headphones on
reliving his past and present pain with every song?
carrying round' some cheap guitar strings
stumbled back and forth till' he found
a lampost with an ear, they talked for hours
"You're so concrete, why don't you ever sway?"
"Son I do, but I'd never make that my aim"
fumbled his words then packed up to move
somewhere far from this place he filled
with avarice, cigarette smoke, and old photos
left his lonely place alone, though it's close, it ain't home