Ten Day Forecast - Data Loss & Recovery

Waking up breathless, falling downstairs
He checks if she's back, but nobody's there
He's rubbing his eyes and calling her cell phone
Climbing the windshield: greeted by the dial tone

He stays up and drinks in his misery
Hiding with the boxes underneath the Christmas tree
Microwave pasta, static TV
I think he's waiting for a lifeboat and he's
Making a mess of things

Talking through midnight sleeping past three
There's a face up on the mantle and it's staring at me
He's running past the staircase but his shoes are in the hall
He's frozen in the driveway as the snow begins to fall
Asking "why is he upset?"
Wasting years of dying breath
He thought that he was special
And he's making a mess of things
Soon we'll be falling apart

Written by:
Bryce Stephens

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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