Got on the same clothes
from the night before;
just picked myself
off the floor.

When you left it cut like a knife;
drank myself silly
practicing for the afterlife.

We had a good thing, baby
but you don’t care.
It’s time to move on,
but I miss you there.

Another cold shoulder,
another lie,
as I grow older,
here’s mud in your eye.

You don’t have to love me;
give me false hope;
the future we had
has gone up in smoke.

Life’s a moving target
and I’m a good shot;
won’t get hurt again
because...
I’m well taught.