Death Cab For Cutie

I intentionally wrote it out to be an illegible mess
You wanted me to write you letters, but i'd rather lose your address
And forget that we'd ever met and what did or did not occur.
Sitting in the station, it's all a blur
Of dancehall hips, pretentious quips.
A boxers, bob and weave.
And here's the kicker of this whole shebang
You're in debt and completely fooled, that you can look into the mirror and objectively rank your wounds.
Sewing circles are not solely based in trades of cloth...
There's spinsters all around here taking notes, reporting on us.