3 Month Weekend

It's a Thursday morning, four a.m.

and you won't let me go

if tomorrow comes I guess I'll never know

even in the darkest hour it's the brightest

time of day

even when I go to bed I'm still awake

Eyes held up with toothpicks

and my jaw is going off

I will never leave you or

admit that I was wrong

There's so many things I'd like to say,

I'm foaming at the mouth

maybe I could write,

my pen is hollowed out

I've got ideas and inventions

and I'd use them if I could

Stop waking up the next day

when they're all no good

Please don't say another word

I know your story well

conversations take two

but I'm talking to myself

Now I need an alibi and everything I did was true

but every word I said was just a lie