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i write you letters all the timei never send them, this is supposed to ease my mindexhaust restraint until i'm no longer inclineddock of the bayyou won't let me stayour excuses will always stay the sameseemingly pressing things, stimulants, playing gamesall our empty exchange crammed into a framedock of the bayyou won't let me stayit's not a choice it's just the slow praxis decayblack coffee, motels, unstrung energydecisive days are becoming few and far betweenyour diligent remorse doesn't mean anythingthese rose-colored encounters are becoming few and far betweenour parents met on the backseats of datsunsand we met on some stranger's floor last year in washingtonthe evolution of a desperate connectiondock of the bayyou won't let me stayit's not a choice, its your dismal, jaded display Aus Songtexte Mania