Creaking of walls and the clatter of these keys
My fingers are tiny worker bees
I am the queen of misery

I forgot about nights like these
The kind that knock and lock your knees
Remind you how lonely, lonely can be
On that long drive home from happiness
Rolling tires and tears
Changing minds, grinding gears

I think I've given too much to you
Outsourced my emotion
So you're the puppeteer
And I am here, hands on keys
Creaking walls, buckled knees

Wishing desperately
I could work without strings.