New Old - Restorations

Enough of the old-times eyes

Enough of the same old reprise

So ugly

So tired

So bored

So true

I don’t know what do with you

Now number three on the side has been giving me the eye

Like somehow I’m the one who’s crossed the line

And you?

Your songs write themselves

And you?

You’re no better

You know, this place will wear you down

Ain’t much left to do but wait for some good news

You in the corner shaking just staring at your phone

Singing, «I gotta get outta here.

I gotta go home.»

I’m trapped in a sea of debris

I am five

I am fifty

I am fifteen

She spins around and says, «so, what’s your theme?»

Says she wants to know what is it I mean

To maintain a distance I no longer occupy

The ongoing joke I continue to choke down