I See London

I'm locking all the doors. I'm busting up the mirrors.

Reflection is a dirty thing. It seems that's all too obvious.

I didn't dim the lights enough. They see me against the wall.

I'm making silhouettes, and it's all my fucking fault.

I would prefer a breeze, but I'll settle for this drink in front of me.

The humid night just sticks to my skin.

Isn't that so generous. It follows me to sleep.

Now I toss and turn in. I hit the lights and sit at the edge of the bed,

Strumming what's inside of me. I guess this night's been turned into something useful.

I'm strumming my guitar looking out a dirty window. I'm drunker than I've been.

What else do I have to say or sing?