I am going to buy a billboard
in the middle of some city
Big white words on a ******* canvas:
"Stop romanticizing love."

City people in their white city shawls
holding their black city umbrellas
will stop and laugh or take a picture
City people will walk on by

I tried every piano key and
the door to your heart or soul or brain or
whatever, just won't open
One part of me wants to try my shoulder next

I'm going to start a support group out here
We'll play chess and read old newspapers
A circle of lovely, miserable silhouettes
Complaining about our animal instinct.

It is far easier this way.
It is easier to believe the stories.

We do not know just how wrong we are
But we are vaguely aware.

Someday I'll think back
forget your name for a sec.
Until then I will enjoy
Watching you dodge my gaze.

We're cruising along in your old off-beige '93 Ford Fiesta
The one with the great sound system
And I am miserable enough to drive us off a cliff

We crash backwards into the water,
Unbuckle each other's seatbelts,
Open our respective doors,
Grab each other,
And drown down there
Because we won't let go.

I pluck up blades of grass, splitting them ‘till there’s nothing left, and I feel a weight on my tongue, like that left from too much peanut butter. My mouth is stuck and I’m choking on my own saliva, and I’ve had one helluva week, so please don’t talk to me.
Please don’t go away though, because I’m finding it hard to let go of you and me, and me and you. It’s kind of sticky, like bubble gum stuck in the hair, this feeling won’t come out, and I won’t go in my own house anymore ‘cause it’s not a home and I don’t know where I’m going, but I know it’s not here.

There has to be another explanation for all of this.
Please tell me the real reason.
Please tell me that you never used me.
Please tell me I wasn't a rebound.
Please tell me that i'm just over thinking all of this.
I'm not okay.
I need closure.
The right kind of closure.
Please tell me what you felt was real,
because all I feel right now is pain.