lonesome blues are coming i fear, time to shed a single tear.
the tear of solitude for a poet without a muse. the end of life for a wordsmith
what to write about now. boredom? potential exploits and conquests?
how about the one that plays hard to get and all her simple tests
it all means something yet in a grand scheme virtual nothingness
i have to end what i had and find a new happiness
i no it will take a while, the search and twist and turns have begun
songs sung and lines wrote, react to all these new shiny ones
as bowie said, we got 5 years, and now it hurts my head
i'll be sleeping alone, on my own tonight in a vast queen size bed
where is my pirate chick?
