There was laughter one fall ago, now its distilled. The remenats are tinted brown sinking to the cup tipped upfor a toast. Your window is a television lit up with a line of pretty people waiting for their fifteen minutes. The actors are fake friends but at least i know they dont secretly hate me.
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me clipping on your radio? Theres a song playing on my stereo. I sing along wishing i could become a vessel so my soul can soar, can travel back in time. I sing along to my stereo. It always sounds better in my head. I wanted to write a fuck you song, now i know that the you could be me. Theres a vague resemblance in the looking glass to a person that i once knew. Maybe hed tell me, "It's a sad stale coffee cup slogan, you're not going to make it."