Get Out Of Here

I walked down
through the burning cars
along your street

I sat and wrote
your name with my finger
on the concrete

your voice was still
and crisp in my ear
"my dad's a cop,
so you'd better get out of here"

I turned down
a familiar street
and the houses swayed

I remembered
walking with you
and suddenly I felt afraid

you stood your feet
in the drain and said
"when you yell I die"
and the implications hurt my head

and so the cops found me
that night in the park
I was drunk and tripping through the dark

i'd carved a tree
with your name and mine
and the sentiment of cheap red wine