The Postal Service

Smeared black ink... your palms are sweaty
And i'm barely listening to last demands
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering what's buried underneath where i am
I'll wear my badge... a vinyl sticker with bigh block letters adherent to my chest
That tells your new friends i am a visitor here...
I am not permanent
And the only thing keeping me dry is where i am
You seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex
A stranger with your door key explaining that i am just visiting
And i am finally seeing why i was the one worth leaving