The Short Story Long - Pulse lyrics

My flag is a traffic light And at night it glows red and green And I've seen everywhere So I guess in that sense the road really is my home And I've got poem after poem of what it was like to miss a home-cooked meal Of what it was like to wake up and feel my arm draped over your absence Breathing in your skin like incense And I bet you never knew that when I'm sleeping beside you, I wake up to make sure I'm holding you I feel like a mountain that doesn't know it's being climbed As your breath is timed With the in and out of mine I rub my hand up your spine like it was the center line of a highway With no stop signs Hit the intersection where your shoulders meet your neck And past the car wrecks of past boyfriends Who parallel parked on dead ends And I just hope your skin lends me an extra mile So I can slow down Take a while to admire the landscape And drape my arm over your being there this time When it comes to your skin I'm a drunk driver Just trying to walk a straight line And some days collapse on me like the nights And I can tell I haven't slept when the light peeks through the blinds And finds me with my eyes wide open Hoping I can take all these poems I printed on post-it notes Fold them into tiny boats Then launch them towards the shores of your skin Where they can begin to colonize Take up roots in your eyes Weigh anchor in the harbor of your thighs Until the tiny hairs on your body begin to rise Like a million flags brought to ma** And at long last I no longer have to roam And I finally understand those sailors who plant their lips to the ground I do the same to your body, it's because you taste like home And what I said was I'll miss you What I meant to say was that I love you What I wanted to say was that I meant what I said I miss you like I miss my own bed After too many nights of sleeping on couches Or hardwood floors Or sitting silently behind the doors Of hotel rooms became wounds Breathing life in to this loneliness I miss you Like a burn victim must miss their own skin I miss you like a sad ending Must miss someplace new to begin Because some say that the highway becomes a flat line If you travel it for too long I can't tell if that's true or false But I'm racing down it towards you trying to find my Pulse