I've been waiting for you
For a full Earth's rotation around the sun.
And I've looked everywhere
At the **** of three hundred and sixty-five cigarettes,
And in three hundred and sixty-five last sips of wine
In the last few seconds of songs sung
By forlorn ex-lovers
And I think maybe
It's at one of these ends
That I'll find you
Because the end is where I saw you last
So in three hundred and sixty-five nights of never quite
Falling asleep
I've merely been
Falling
Looking at the ends of cigarette butts, bottles, and ballads
For the end
The one you wrote
So that I can rewrite it.