Yesterday I spent asleep
Woke up in my clothes in a dirty heap
Spent the night trying to make a deadline
Squeezing a complicated novel into a simple short story
I have your face on top some old poems
Tidying the childrens' clothes and toys
You smiling back at me I took the poems from the fridge
Can't remember what Emily did
Haven't been with a woman, it feels like, for years
Thought of you the whole time, your salty tears
This shitty world sometimes produces a good story
The words of it linger but then it just goes

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The worst of us are a long drawn-out confession
The best of us are geniuses of verbosity compression
You say you're not gonna leave the truth alone
I'm here 'cause I don't wanna go home
Someone reading a dirty book from a riverbank
Writer brings oranges he got out from a store
Waiting on the other, he's taking a while to come
Watching the sun go down on Writing
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Now I got a head like a lit cigarette
Unholy clouds reflect on a glossy cover of a mini book
So high above me, higher than everyone
Where are you in the cedars of Writing?
Choose your stories carefully, 'cause they will define you
Make them interesting 'cause in some ways they will mind you
They're not there in the beginning but when your story ends
Gonna last with you longer than your friends