Better Ways from Better Places by G.I. Bill

My twenty-fourth try
You got no teeth left for twenty-five
Twenty-four tries
You find new hobbies, I stay inside
Some fucked pact we made in the dark made me the cross you can't bear without
Made your voice crack bright and cold
Your weight on my neck makes me feel so old

Forehead pressed to the floor, a new feeling exposed:
It's quiet down here with my head ducked below

I'm asking because I'm dense -- I'm asking because I'm insecure
How many screams at the foot of a glacier before whole sheets start to fall and alter the landscape?
Cause a rise to the tide and beach every whale?
Sweep away shorelines marked out over lifetimes?

It's quiet down here
It's quiet down here

• Rock
• Oklahoma City