I much rather write about pretty faces
But all the beauty in the world does me no good
When I'm in one of these moods...
I always thought airports were fun places
Changing planes, on the way to new experiences
Now I'm in one, sitting alone, desperate to get home
And my perspective shifts...
I'm worried about the future
I'm worried about the now
I'm worried about having to be social
When I would rather be on my own.
( Yet again Jenny Lawson says:
)
He told me I must've a big heart
I never thought about myself that way
What a weird thing to say to someone you've just met
He must've been drunk or high
No, sweetie, I don't have a big heart
What does it all have to do with heart anyways
I was just trying to make small talk
I didn't really meant half of the things I said.
He told me he felt exhausted, brain-dead
He had a nice smile, though, I give him that
So I wrote this whole verse about our brief encounter
And made sure it somewhat rhymes with his name.
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