I'm sitting here in my underwear and a shirt that reminds me of good times...
its sun stained and the memory my tan washed down the drain this morning...
I wrote a book that no one read and after read a book who authors dead...
I pushed hard against the floor... its no different for the encounter...
but I guess what doesn't kill me will only make breakfast longer...
I eight half this many eggs...
shut my eyes for a quarter 'fore one hole in my day i'll never get back...
Nimbus clouds gathering outside my widow blot out the sun as they bathe the city that never
sleeps...
but i'm dry the Son's bursting from my insides and producing true joy...
a sip of coffee... and a few more words... they tell you nothing...
i'm getting dressed...
goodbye!!
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