A can of cola,
An unfilled bathtub
For dirty bodies
And storing empties.
The land-line's nagging,
The mail is scattered on the floor,
And through a keyhole of
A triple bolted door,
It's melodrama,
It's confused chemicals.
It's dirty laundry,
It's empty styrofoam.
The Giants won and
All the firecracker shells are littering the street
And I don't give a shit.
My shoes ran off somewhere
And I haven't even cared to organize a search.
My ball of nerves,
Don't mistake me,
I'll refuse you
If you choose to track me down.
And don't you make me leave
Without wishing you well
'Til I return from my brief sojourn
To the center of the earth.
As far as I tell you
It's not as bad as all of that,
And I promise not to be reckless.
Oh heart of mine,
Heart of mine,
It's your face that brings me back every time.
It's dirty laundry,
It's empty styrofoam.