contrails of my memory

the line is:
the season of the rats
like spinning plates
in the house, in a heartbeat
i caught myself
staring into my memories
again

i tell you this radio music
doesn't help at all
just like the blue bottles
didn't
wash your face
out of my mind

i've sat down
with this conundrum
too many times
now
my heart only flickers

so i tell the new her to walk
what else?

everything i think of sounds like an excuse

i know im supposed to want this
i know im supposed to feel thankful
that someone
saw a spark of beauty in this
abandoned echo
(something like that)

well, you keep that pretty cage
for another bird
i still like to fly