Like cigarette burnt to the stub,
Like an empty bottle of Jack,
      Kinda the way it's been.
Like reruns of Seinfeld on a Saturday
    1a.m. slot.
And nobody notices, yeah my days
Have been like that.
     Like bloggers on a subject like
Star Wars and little
Pimple faced teens arguing lightsabers....
     Pertinent subjects have lost
Their way out of my life.
      There is a whole lot of nothing,
But like cigarettes burnt to the stub and
     An empty bottle of Jack,
Like days fading on a memory card
With 300 pictures,
      And the ashes that get swept
Just this side of the puke
Of the armchair.