Talking with myself in a land-locked parking lotcough drop dripping from my mouth like a long shotMy writer’s blocking oh oh ohSick of all the small talk, dripping non-stopfrom the open-mouth graves of the faux hawk cinder block mallsmy blood clot pen oh oh oh Oh maybe I could break cleanYea, maybe I could break clean We’re on your shore againI can feel the oceanI can feel your open armsThat pure emotionI’m finally free againBy my own explosionWe’re on your shore againI can feel the ocean Saltwater running through my veins like a blind spotLike I got caught, saltwater like a teardropWith a saltwater heart oh oh ohNow it’s an abstract thought but I’ve been thinking non-stop'bout the fact that my body’s made most out of raindropsWith a saltwater heart oh oh oh Oh maybe I could wash cleanYea maybe I could believe We’re on your shore againI can feel the oceanI can feel your open armsThat pure emotionI’m finally free againBy my own explosionWe’re on your shore againI can feel the ocean Maybe I could wash cleanYea maybe I could wash cleanall my land-locked dreamsAnd maybe I could believe We’re on your shore againI can feel the oceanI can feel your open armsThat pure emotionI’m finally free againLike my own explosionWe’re on your shore againI can feel the ocean I can feel the ocean
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