Like cigarette burnt to the stub,
Like an empty bottle of Jack,
Kinda the way it's been.
Like reruns of Seinfeld on a Saturday
1a.m. slot.
And nobody notices, yeah my days
Have been like that.
Like bloggers on a subject like
Star Wars and little
Pimple faced teens arguing lightsabers....
Pertinent subjects have lost
Their way out of my life.
There is a whole lot of nothing,
But like cigarettes burnt to the stub and
An empty bottle of Jack,
Like days fading on a memory card
With 300 pictures,
And the ashes that get swept
Just this side of the puke
Of the armchair.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Like cigarette burnt to the stub,
Like an empty bottle of Jack,
Kinda the way it's been.
Like reruns of Seinfeld on a Saturday
1a.m. slot.
And nobody notices, yeah my days
Have been like that.
Like bloggers on a subject like
Star Wars and little
Pimple faced teens arguing lightsabers....
Pertinent subjects have lost
Their way out of my life.
There is a whole lot of nothing,
But like cigarettes burnt to the stub and
An empty bottle of Jack,
Like days fading on a memory card
With 300 pictures,
And the ashes that get swept
Just this side of the puke
Of the armchair.
