The Counter

Syphoned off top layers
Leave an etching in the dirt
Tracing past the history to dip back to the hurt
Fingers leave a trail on me, a map of what I've done
Each hair that grows precisely shows a time line and my sum

And you don't know the weight, a clicking of the counter
I won't show you the weight and its worth...

Walk into a new room and your static lingers still
Trace of grease from unsucked feet is mine to to smudge at will
Fingers leave a trail on me, a map of what I've done
Each hair that grows precisely shows a time line and my sum

And you don't know the weight, a clicking of the counter
I won't show you the weight and its worth...

Psapp