Still Green Stonefruit

The ice is shaved like bed sheets over our garden that you let die
My brain's sore from the cigarettes as I search for a savior in the Western sky
I can hear the tape deck straining over the squealing in my lungs
As I forfeit our time that we never found and let the levity of longing come

I'm dissecting my insides in hopes to pin this fleeting happiness
But it's like grinding teeth against still green stonefruit in the end

The front lawn's filled with filters, there's trains in the backyard
There's cold tea in the kettle, I can see the snow caps from where we are
The devil's trumpet's dissonant, but it's spewing past my teeth
I bartered out my plans and hopes for the shallow comfort of stagnant feet

Regret doesn't throttle my ribs, or the hollow in my chest
'Cause I consolidated all its necessary equipment, took its voicebox and split

I set fire to our dead garden, and paved over the flower bed
So the compost can't start shifting and lecture me with its progress
The malleable future's waiting behind the door I've locked
'Cause if my fingers never graze its face, it can always be just what I want

And I've been clean for a couple of weeks now, I think I did my time
Another hit and she'll be out of my mind.