Sippin' on a Proper English beer,
In a desert not unlike my soul,
My mind is heavy and all but clear,
And my heart is far from whole.
I'll smoke another, and drink my few,
I'm shaking with anxiety at the thought of you.
I'll walk back silent,
Eat alone,
The sadness defiant,
I reach for the phone.
From my desolate outpost your voice emerges,
My thoughts go out through space.
The emotions rise, control my urges,
I fuckin' hate this place.
You must return to your daily must,
Your voice is gone; I'm alone.
I watch the sky as it turns to dust,
A Cigarette; Solitude; is where I'm prone.
It's odd to me to sip a beer,
And feel the way I do,
The rocks reflect my soul here,
The only color blue.