Geography, vonnegut and me

You're running out, your heavy heart I hope it slows you down
I'll be your gravity and pull you to the ground
You're running out of solid ground I'll be your tectonic plate
That shifts and brings your head back to this place

Everybody does their time on the fault line
For now let's keep our feet on the same side

Be the nine and I'll be the three
On a clock that lies over a map of this country
There's some things that time can't change
Leave a piece of yourself, and take something back too

Father Time is a blurred bird in disguise
Who made his way to my shoulder
It's weighing me down, It' makes me feel older
I wish it would all just stop
I put my all into destroying his nest
It makes us grow older

I'll be your gravity
The same tectonic plate; that's me
Everybody does their time on the fault line