Here's to the girl who will always be second best,
Running late for her dreams, tired and under-dressed,
I light up a cigarette and sit on the bed,
Faded moments of last night flicker through my head,
I feel her stir so slightly but she doesn't wake,
I let her sleep a little longer for her sake,
It seems she got drunk again and we ****** again,
And I'll go on like it didn't happen again,
She's like a wild flower, but everybody knows,
A pretty little flower but she's no one's rose,
No one notices, she fades, as they pass her by,
Not a dream, not disillusioned, she wonders why,
She's far from the one I love but I took her home,
So neither of us had to spend the night alone,
Ashen hair and cracks in her pale dusty lips,
A slur to her words and bruises lining her hips,
She smells like an ashtray and tastes like old beer,
She is drifting somewhere between there and here,
Perhaps she can see she has lost all direction,
Perhaps she sleeps away all her recollection,
I'm sorry she's not enough to love in the day,
She's no ones first choice but for her, second's okay.