if the weather doesn't get you, you can bet that your friends will with a smile and a knife in hand, they'll wait for you if the weather doesn't get you, you can bet that sorrow will every day seems like a lifetime, each and every year i walk alone underneath the darkest skies i've ever known cutting through the rain, dodging puddles underneath my broken feet with nowhere to go hide myself among the ghosts that crowd these city streets we're all dead. this town's a ghost. this city kills. midwestern skies seem to call my name back home spent the last few years not knowing what i left behind maybe it's time i kiss this place goodbye