Minute

The Lawrence Arms

Another day chock full of choices of things to hate

Another forehead, cobwebby, dull, throbbing

Almost pain…

Another obtrusive reminder of things I hoped were long gone

Gone and forgotten

My stomach feels rotten

My shoes are all soaked

And my socks are all cotton

My insides are black from the smoking and pain

And every damn song is fucking the same

This same goddamn train

Glides soft through the rain

And I sit and dizzily wait