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I am, just for a moment, carefully spoken, broken |
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Wearing what I just woke up in. |
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I end without a warning, reasonably worn out. |
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I got the sense that you won't be too miserable. |
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And everybody knows |
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It aches the heart to go on |
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And so often I'll knit |
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A pattern taken from the thirteenth levels |
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Wrapped in bubble bobble again?? |
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You'll ask whether I'm mad. |
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I'm better at acting sad, |
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But you'll refrain I rarely strain my voice, |
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But now that you've taken all of the other waking |
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Hours ahead of it out, forget it |
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And everybody sews, |
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But it takes a girl with know-how |
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To know how to plow through |
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An autumn-colored scene depicting |
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You and me careening on a see-saw |
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But now that you've shown disinterest in the thought |
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I've taken that it's not |
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What I've sewn that's driven you to leave |
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It's got to do with me. |
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You can, just for a moment, see if it's torn or not |
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And if it is then you might as well stood the chance |
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Walking at night, drinking again, |
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Sulking at sight of your girlfriend. |
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Loiter and sigh, needle in hand, |
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Embroidering myself as planned but |
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Stranded across an empty seat. |
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Since you've shown disinterest in the thought |
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I've taken that it's not |
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What I've sewn that's driven you to leave. |
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It's making me believe |
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That what you've done to me |
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Has got to do with me. |
