Pick up the phone
I’m pregnant with your baby
I wanted you to know
The dreams I’ve been having lately
I wake up, I walk out from an explosion
And the city speaks in sirens
And the wreckage is my angel of devotion
A dying light inside him
And I try to tell you something
But my mouth fills up with water
You say, “Finally, you found me…”
And suddenly I’m drowning
Pick up the phone
I’m trying to say sorry
The things that you should know
Are weighing heavy on me
Well it’s nothing can’t be fixed
With a hot bath and a fifth of mother’s ruin
All forgone for the duration
With deranged and, maybe even, drunken sex with strangers
And his wife didn’t stop crying
For at least a week, he told me
But at least she got the kids and half a million
I just assumed that she was sleeping
And I fall in love in the only way that I know
As I dive into the mouth of a hungry volcano
And I walk, not recognizing set of reflections
As I lay next to the next one with you on my mind
Pick up the phone
Pick up the phone
Pick up the phone
I’ll …, go