One, two, three, four. Sam, your mom has secretly been renting out your home. I used your shower sponge when you went to Spain alone. She told us it's been rough, and you deserve to break. And marrying that guy obviously was a mistake. You had a couple kids, but now he's always gone. And your sock-sweeping hair, and your mommy's hair's so long. The flat you have upstairs, ducked in the suburb safe, is running low on bread and other amenities. Because your mom's secretly renting your place. Place. Al, your elevator looked in hell of disrepair. But I'm not fucking with a dozen flights of stairs. I tantalized my legs somewhere in Germany. Tried to convince the board to pay attention to me. The absinthe that we drank, I'm not sure it was real. Massage place in the building, we know what's the fucking deal. Because rock boys wait outside, protected and unfair. I've burned their glassy eyes, but I don't really care. I don't want to lay in pain and stare at the ceiling while chasing the fleeting. There's too much in my head to sleep. And I did that thing, that movie, sad foot on the floor beside the bed still. Too much in my head to sleep. Too much in my head to sleep. Too much in my head to sleep tonight. Get fucked up. Break your stupid bones again. Get fucked up. Lose your telephone again. Get fucked up. Bother all your friends again. Get fucked up. Shake your broken heart again. I really gotta leave, but I just want to stay. I'm only a real person for a quarter dozen days. Until I gotta scram. Until I go away. I'm starting to a person that I wouldn't want to meet. Don't throw dating mold on my laundry. I'm becoming so afraid. I'm honestly placing bets on a chemical crap tune with my brain. Claiming for the dealer, so I'll clock out on the plane. Mumbling in the dark and living vicariously. To a photo album in a stranger's DMV. To a photo album in a stranger's DMV.