I've been making coffee with my one-eyed sneer,
the girl, she said she'd follow me home - but she
never showed. Dammit, again. Here I am alone.
The dark, black enamel on that kettel I pushed
over has a chip on it now like a flake. Couldn't
hold its own against a harder force - same
condition I find myself in. Damn again.
Here the lamplight can shield my head.
I'll sit, and pretend to be reading.