Marrow Draft

[Verse 1]
The blinking cursor on this busted LG screen
Has an inch of dust on it from the week you turned eighteen.
It's been a hundred Tuesdays since the ground refused to thaw,
And I keep a running list of every single thing I saw.

[Chorus]
This is my marrow draft, the words I'll never send,
The only prayer I got that hasn't buckled in the bend.
A dead air signal flare, a fault line I can mend,
This is my marrow draft, until the bitter end.

[Verse 2]
I wrote about the copperheads sunning on the slag,
The way your daughter's laughing with the one good lung she has.
You told me once, "ain't no use in lookin' at the ground,"
But the screen's the only place I hear that hollow, empty sound.

[Chorus]
This is my marrow draft, the words I'll never send,
The only prayer I got that hasn't buckled in the bend.
A dead air signal flare, a fault line I can mend,
This is my marrow draft, until the bitter end.

[Bridge]
Every letter is a pickaxe chipping at the shale.
I type your name just to watch the damn suggestion fail.

[Chorus]
This is my marrow draft, the words I'll never send,
The only prayer I got that hasn't buckled in the bend.
A dead air signal flare, a fault line I can mend,
This is my marrow draft, until the bitter end.

[Outro]
The cursor blinks green fire, like algae on the mud.
Then the battery dies again.