Two weeks notice (2001-2009)

Once I fell asleep sitting against the wall
of the Borders on State Street.
I woke up to suits walking around me.
My hair was orange.

It took me three years to realize
I could never be blonde.
And two more to realize
I look good in black.

All the fire alarms destroyed,
the lamps pulled from the roots,
and the old lady's stolen shoes?
We were just belligerent.
Thought the world of pretty boys
with cigarettes and stained teeth.
We didn't even know what beauty was.

How the fuck
did we come out of that one alive?
The truth is, we barely did.

Statistically speaking
I rejected more than I accepted,
when you account for the ratio of
hours into days into months into the year,
etc.

I was young.
And just like that, you get it now.

The winter I blew a lot of money,
I couldn't get myself to lose control really.
But the rent was at least free.

To anyone getting seriously involved-
dissolved, is how I see it, cause
we all saw them less and less.

Rings and bookmarked jewelers on-line.
I haven't bothered taking them down.
I wonder what the big deal is
in getting into it or out of it.

I don't even have the guts to kiss you.
Where do I get off fancying you a good fuck?
It's those shoes you wear,
I'd like you to keep them on.

When I hear footsteps above me
I like to think it's the hot neighbor
coming and going.

Just so you know
I'm jumping years and skipping faces.

Two weeks notice.
I think I'll make some coffee now.