Maybe my words aren’t as funny after

All your clothes are folded in the suitcase.

Maybe the jokes make no pain better

Maybe the laughs hollow all to waste.

See how you hold the musicbox I gave you

And the pause as you stare at it,

Forgetting where the tunes have gone to,

Then putting it back because it won’t fit.

You say it’s time for goodbye’s

But how do I say hi to lonely again?

Hurt’s said to make the heart grow wise,

Not a record of asking when, when, when.

Your taxi’s outside. Been there ten minutes.

You’re standing in front of me, rooted in beats.