The Difference

Late at night and I'm bored as hell.
Zip up my jacket and walk around town.
Watch the snow turn to rain.
It'll turn back to snow and do it again.

My feet are soaked from the holes in my shoes
that I get from pacing around with nothing to do.
I give up the battle, try to see a friend,
but he's out with his ex-girlfriend.

Sometimes he says to me, "I don't know what to do with my life.
What do I want? What do I need?"
And I tell him that honesty was never meant to breed simplicity, success, money or all that shit that we don't really need.

On the curb, I sit and stare as the ice floats down the street.
I find myself craving those summer nights where we all believed that morning would never come.
The sun would never hit those trees
under which we built bonfires
and talked until we fell asleep.
But now everyone is moving out or moving on.
Crash-landing into new seas to be sailed upon.

I have barely any reason.
I have barely any strength to keep this going any longer.
To keep my head above water.

So, tell me, is it "moving out" or "moving on" or a little bit of both?
Well, wherever you go, I hope that one day you will find me there.
But for now I'll stay right here.
A disembodied authority?
Let's not go there.

Over and over, I will rehearse this melody in hopes you all will follow me.
Together, we'll burn and bury these dead trees.
Pick the splinters from our hands with our teeth
and spit the color of rust among the leaves.

Can you tell the difference?