world on fire

Clever liar, 

fooling us all, 

never thought I'd work it out
How could I have known it was ever about you boy?

Now there's nothing to say, 

there's no words and we're not talking anyhow
You must have known I was never to doubt you boy

If it was so fine, 

it was so good, 

oh you're unbelievable!

All this time I've been living without you boy, 

but not your lying

It felt so good, 

the world don't know, 

now they'll never find out
All these years she must've been beside you boy

Don't forget that I, was the one that you found

And if I know you, you'll find me someplace new
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

We're a waste of time
And if I know you, learned long ago it's true
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

Go and explain, 

explain it again, 

boy that this all started
Found you lying in the arms of another girl so stop your crying

Day after day, year after year, far too long and lost it
Must have thought I was nothing without you boy

Don't forget that I, was the one that you found
And if I know you, you'll find me someplace new
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

We're a waste of time
And if I know you, learned long ago it's true
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

And tonight if we learn that the world's on fire
I guess I'll turn to you
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

I've failed to fight, so hard to fight
And I can find a way for you and I to go on like this

I'm always learning things the hard, hard, hardest way

'Cause I was the one that you found
And if I know you, you'll find me someplace new
I hope you never, I hope you never get to

Tonight, if we learn that the world's on fire

the day after

The day after I turned 44.

There's a subtle excitement within.  I'm laying on the couch, front windows open and listening to the solitary baby bird outside screaming for its mother.  There is little to no other sounds; not even the typical noise of the laptop fan. 

Morning commute must be over as I hear no cars.  No dogs barking, no children yelling and no pressure from guilty consciousness.

Hershey is restless sleeping at my feet, but her warmth is inviting.

Received a message from Randy last night, at least I think it was him.  I don't have his nor Katie's number in my phone anymore.  More symbolic than anything, but...it is what it is.  I always thought broccoli was pretty, but not as pretty as that swivel shavings from pencils: all brown from the wood with a yellow edge like some flower as it falls away.

Chaotic thought patterns abound and I'm craving sauteed onions.