these days,
your eyes are sad and cold
and
there's a noticeable gruffness to your voice
these days

these days,
your clothes are always ripped
and
i seldom see you smile
these days

these days,
you're silent like a ghost
and
the faint smell of cigarettes sticks to you like glue
these days

these days,
i never see you without a bottle
and
i'm unsure why, but you always carry needles
these days

these days,
a man is always on your arm
and
then there's a new one the next day
these days

these days,
i don't know who you are
and
i wish you would come back
*always