a knock at the door (demo I)

Eighteen, what now. Friends go from green to white to the grave over the county police scanner, blame gets parked anywhere it will sit, and the song’s inversion is already here. He fears nothing outside, only what is on this side of the door, and locks it anyway. She will love him when his body is cold, says so plainly, then reduces the ask to its smallest form, just come back to bed.