Pattern After Us
BRANDON D. SETTA, DOMENIC PALERMO
We'd say were having one and then wed close the place
It's always hard to say what you really mean
Sometimes I miss the smell of that old neighborhood
And the tasteless places that remain
Somebody said your Dad had won the lottery
It was always something I could never erase
Sometimes I wonder how much you ended up with
And if you spent the whole thing in one place
I can't stay here and waste away Dear
The windows rattle in falsetto
With the creaks of beds and the taste of meds
Suburban home where we spent the winter
The broken glass in the blades of grass
