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I took the pictures off the floor where I was sitting
You made them cut like something ringing true
And when I flip through the letters, I write one back to you
It had me thinking about the way that I was living
No peak or valley, only coasting through
One backward step to the middle, that's something I could do

I keep seeing the old dirt mound, the pitch comes flying to me but I'm never swinging it
You start rattling off those aspirations I gotta see it to start believing it
I bit all of the hooks so fast that I can't even remember it
The happy thing is a punishment and I start pulling away from it

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