im not tired, so i don't sleep
i turn on a lava lamp
my soul to keep
- but i wake up in the morning
i wonder around at dusk
and break into a construction site
the rain turns into dust
- in the end they'll finish it
the unframed photo curves with age
i no longer see the faces
like a novel missing a page
- i never knew them that well anyway
it's time to turn off the heater
as the violent rain falls
these blankets can't treat her sweeter
- but i've got my jacket on
i've locked myself out
of my own house
"holy shit!" coltrane makes me shout
- i'm out there for hours
and he feels hazy
as she drinks water,
the guilt of the lazy
- i watch them both with a beer in my hand
young couple kissing
the crowded train
and the rain down pissing
- i've got an ipod and a book
cooking my dinner alone
i listen to jazz
but not the ringing telephone
- i have seven messages, apparently
fingerless gloves of the coffee-cup
shake the hands
of the glove-less drunk
- but im not hungry
i shake my fists and nod my head
trumpet man, i hear you play
the night is long and the day is dead
- i really don't care, but how did i get here?
a long walk home in the rain
yellow headlights and puddles
i left my umbrella on the train
- but what an amazing cup of soup awaits me at home
a rusty old tin can
hard and tough
it's ending where it began
- i wonder what they're improving now?
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