a sublet for accommodations buried underground
we’ll make the neighbors wonder “why’s that racket so lovely now?”
but our momentary “all for” faded into non-existence
same as ever
the population of the suburbs was no lover for me

box my junk up once again
and say “why thank you”

altho my alma mater thought her boy would be returning
i will never
the babies in the nursery curse me cos i don’t stick around
never break a promise, never make a promise
lately where’s your heart at?
never let me have it, never let me have it
give it to me

talk to me don’t talk to me about anything
talk to me don’t talk to me about
whose hearts are made for one another

talk to me don’t talk to me
i don’t believe in anything
and getting older
wouldn’t be so bad

talk to me don’t talk to me
i don’t believe in anything
and getting older
wouldn’t be so untimely
had i vocation

even if i use every moment, every avenue
coming into view, approaching me altho i sit still
nothing can remove what regret is cutting into me
and the knife bleeds too because the knife’s my very own