Minute

Another day, chock full of choices of things to hate

Another forehead, cobwebby, dull, throbbing, almost pain

Another obtrusive reminder of things that I hoped were long gone

Another obtrusive reminder of things that I hoped were long gone

Gone and forgotten, my stomach feels rotten

My shoes are all soaked and my socks are all cotton

My insides are black from the smoking and pain

And every damn song is fucking the same

The same goddamn train

Slides soft through the rain

And I sit and dizzily wait