Put the gun down, i just want to talk   I can't hear you, you're breaking up   I can't help being static   a rise in the voice marks the descent   as the atmosphere thickens   it quickens the coming apart   a shooting star   shooting down in the darkened half      sometimes the hinges aren't strong enough   splinters splitting us,   embedded in the floor   some nights don't pass quick enough   nor the walls thick enough for you,   or me, or next door   I can't help being static      so the wounds are dressed and each given a name   dated and placed   the records remain   both tired of being the cause of this happening   I'm moving out onto the edge   just out of touch   just about out of everything   careless if I slip,   careful of where you stand   you say I couldn't care less   I've always been sure of what should not have been said   I've never had to say I love you to death,   because we'd both have to dive on that gun   and jokingly say. . .   that it just might have to be that way      sometimes the hinges aren't strong enough   splinters splitting us,   embedded in the floor   some nights don't pass quick enough   nor the walls thick enough   you really don't take enough   notice of what I'm telling you   you could act as though you give a fuck   I'm sick of disappointing you   you refuse to see me as anything   more than what you think I've been   that's not what I was thinking at all