You’re by yourself
So you buy yourself
Another pack of smokes
For the long drive home
And it’s cold out
And your whole mouth
Is filled with the words
You think keep you warm
And you said “Kurtis, Hunter, Hemingway
Please stop making sense”
Please don’t fix me
If I don’t need fixing
I had a dream that
I stopped drifting
Kurtis, Hunter, Hemingway
Please stop making sense