I once thought that perfection was possible
but we both know that it's nothing more than a pipe dream
maybe that's why I get in bar fights now
and drink myself stupid
the jukebox sings
"Baby please come home"
and I down another shot
rack my brain for all the right words
listen to another mindless idiot
ramble on
shrug off a drunk girls advances
walk home in the rain
toss coins in fountains
place my hopes on wishes
dreams
and tired little poems that no one really reads
ramble on and on
"Baby Please Come Home"
the jukebox sings
but
"She's Long Gone"
No comments:
Post a Comment