A narcotic-induced domestic dispute.

I'm devoured when treading on eggshells,  
around broken bottles and dust.  
Palpitation stations  
for the best of us  
and palpitation attacks  
for me.  
 
The attraction is failing,  
the line's dead. As if it's a relationship out of hours, I fall asleep hidden in the cargo, you fall asleep, well, fuck knows where.  
 
All is quiet. All is still after I set up my own drop, these lessons come to all. These lessons are your 'free ride'.  
In the driver's seat I cut out the parts of me you made better. I jam the pieces back together as a three year old would with a five hundred piece puzzle.  
 
I tread on eggshells  
around broken bottles and dust.  
 
You biked our promise out to London  
without a lock, and without a key.  
 
Don't call when you wake, for me.