Your hopeless little tragedies

Spill so hopelessly on the floor.

The ones that take over all the attention,

The ones so goddamn impossible to ignore.

The not so gentle news

Is burning away, all this trust once built

Built for no reason at all,

For why should I trust someone who knows no guilt?

The not so brilliant light

Didn’t exactly hide your figures,

On the ground as you lay not so motionless,

With the immoral girl you’ve known for years.

All I really long for

Is to make this paranoia subside,

And know that everything is exemplary

And that the girl’s answering your phone

Means you have nothing to hide.

The stories I hear after years of romantics,

The rumors that spread so lightning fast,

This nausea is something way beyond Maalox.

It’s permanently built in to last.