There’s a cat staring at me, the internet’s out, and I guess it’s time to start drinking.
If I thought that it mattered or thought that you cared, I’d tell you what it is that I’m thinking.
But since you’re not here, and I’m all alone, I might as well forget your name.
We could stare at the moon, from under our lovers, hoping the song is the same.
Or I could light up the sky with a thousand house fires so that you could find your way.
You could sit on my porch with me as we listen while the fires turn night into day.
You’ll smile at me, I’ll laugh out loud, and then we could pull out your hair.
You’d wake up to ruins, rub your bald head, and smile because I’m still there.
Another drunken daydream, another moment where I bask in the sun.
Before that demon sobriety finds me, and reminds me I’m not the one.
Disclaimer. Please note. I don’t actually go around hitting things. It’s a quote from the Simpsons that makes me laugh. Perhaps you should try thinking of something that makes you laugh. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going to make some toast.