Get Out Of Here

i walked down through the burning cars along your street i sat and wrote your name with my finger on the concrete your voice was still and crisp in my ear "my dad's a cop, so you'd better get out of here" i turned down a familiar street and the houses swayed i remembered walking with you and suddenly i felt afraid you stood your feet in the drain and said "when you yell i die" and the implications hurt my head and so the cops found me that night in the park i was drunk and tripping through the dark i'd carved a tree with your name and mine and the sentiment of cheap red wine