It's fun to talk, R.E. when we get the chance the rare chance But you're blown all over with skanky girls and punk-prep guys So my piece of you is small. Oh well, more ciggies to smoke, more time to be spent alone, more overcast days to waste. I'll see you soon, R. E., and again leave after 15 minutes. Because what is there to say, really, when you'd rather ignore me. But the laughs are fun Certain times are good But it's rotting.
Reason for writing:
a visit, another visit to a boring room to talk to a girl
who has nothing to say. it's all so fucking frustrating, because
i am a born conversationalist...
Birth sign: Not entered
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