Lyrics Blankets (The Middle) - Sittingthesummerout

Well, I didn't get to tell you how much I hate funerals.
I think from then on, we avoided memories from that day.
I never wanted you to believe that I drove you all the way there because I needed to prove that I am something more.
Eventually, we learned that I was nothing more, or at least nothing more than the images of others in your head.
Nevertheless, when I opened my car door and let you in, and half in silence we drove towards the sea, all I really needed was for you to find peace.
You didn't know you would break down, and I could see you dreaded what your reaction could be.
It warmed me to see how close you'd stand to a friend in need.
The church was filled with ghosts.
I know you saw them too.
I know your ghosts were raising up again.
But you are brave, you've always been.
With a heavy heart, you clenched your fists and did your best to stop the tears.
I looked at you halfway through, and beneath my eyes was a younger child, in a similar church, shedding the same wounds.
But these places all look the same, don't they?
With their tall ceilings, where the pastor's voice rings; their majestic composition, built upon centuries of lies.
And you remain you, with differences of sorts, crying the same honest despair.
As much as it couldn't change the course of things, like I'm sure you had 4 years before, I wanted you to know that you had a shoulder to lean on.
After dinner with my family I drove home, all alone, clutching at my sanity.
I confess, I felt afraid - and this, I'm positive I told you before you left; I am ashamed of the instinct that kicked in.
The impulse I know all too well.
It's all I know, how my mother wishes I hadn't turned out to be.
How I was taught to deal with things.
I stopped at a gas station, and in retrospect, I think it was the look in your eyes that came to me.
I thought once more, and couldn't find a reason to hurry out of it, out of you.
Did it mean I wanted to remain?
That I wanted to stay?
Dwelling on it, I hit the gas again.
I hope that to this day, you understand what that meant for me.
You can't begin to imagine how much I'd love to tell you that the ghosts won't come back, and that I'm not haunted by the ghost of you.
I'm a liar, I'm a hypocrite, but I've never lied to you, I'm not going to begin now.
When we drove home, your hands felt like the most delicate dead weight.
A weight I was willing to carry until you felt alive.
When in truth, just like the waves we didn't even catch a glimpse of, we were alive, and we were there.
We knew we were.