(no subject)

Jun 19, 2010 00:26

In the whiskey-shade lamp light I am but a shadow
I don't have the will even just to call the guys to meet up tonight
'Cause I can't stand to look them in the eyes
As we talk of our "perfect" lives as we're all dying on the inside
It's all nostalgia and "remember when..."
So I just get blitzed on the couch
And do my best not to think about you now
Sitting on my hands to keep from calling you
If I'm lucky it'll last until two or three
But my heavy head will lose the edge to talk me out of it
I've never been so sure and so lost at once:
I'm fucked and I know it
I understand you'll be fine either way, but I can't live with it or without it
So I smile and I shrug and say, "Yeah, maybe in some other life"
But that life shows up in all my hungover daydreams
When I work the clock around again
So I come home and just get blitzed on the couch
You exist in a text, a thought, a whim
Then I'm talking to my pillow in some drunken fantasy
Sleep. Then repeat.
Sleep. Then repeat.
Count the weeks. Count the weeks.

"All your love is just a dream"
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