The Customs of Midwestern Ghosts Steven, I think I'm just too tired to cry Every memory is a lie Someday I will crawl out of my pit in the past Every moment is our last Just a simpleton mixing Templeton with a handful of expired vicodin Erasing my sins By losing track of what decade we're in I took the rest of 'em this afternoon in an I-80 rest stop bathroom To prepare for the ride The wind a banshee just outside You left us, you never came back, congratulations I guess Time ain't a line it's just a mess Part of you got of the tomb without having to grieve Part of you will never leave Blood on the road along the county line, the next episode, that damned open door chime And the hazard lights Shouting curses at the night Today an officer from the FBI asked if the thought of her made you a radical guy He had your name on a list I had forgotten you exist You were never here I got word from an acquaintance back home that the quarries are dry Now people just jump in to die And when they're gone they leave no will nor fingerprints Ghosts don't haunt rental apartments In my mind it's '94 and you're dreaming of fame Not in a motel using a fake name Connecting wires and pouring nails into a pipe Truly you never seemed the type And every song you ever sung is meaningless after what you have done It never ends I don't speak your name to friends We used to talk, we used to dream, we used to kiss Now I just scream sweet nothings at the abyss We're all just throats and wrists From the yellow tape in the airport to the rubble of the federal court You will return Just to watch our memory burn You were never here