Soviettes Sunday A.m.
We're talking early Sunday. You're standing last. Another
bottlecap just hit the ground. You're almost falling
over, around the corner lies the one that now just makes
your heart hurt. You're feeling all alone. Can't talk to
anyone, you need to ride it out. Feel like there's
nothing left, like they just took your best.. The air is
thicker, maybe. It doesn't help you smoked so much your
lungs have had enough. You know you're almost broken and
at this point it's not "I want you back" but "could i go
with". So sick of left behind. Too empty now to try.
You've got to ride it out. If they would have just called
we could have had it all...