She's lost - she's late
She's zooming on a couch somewhere
Or high - or home
I'm not supposed to call her there.
I wait - I smoke
I stare into my coke
It's happening again
I tell myself that it's over and done, amen.
Her skin - like milk
It's like she's never seen the sun
Some hearts to crunch
Is more like her idea of fun
I know - she's ill
I'm cruising for a spill
I'm hanging just the same
I need to be in the heat
Of her cold white flame