Caught up in the Writing

I thank a girl called Toxic Waste

(with the funny hair and clothes and all)

But the left-swinging mood is gone

Indeed, it is

The clouds look like blue and grey popcorn

Why does summer make me feel this way

When I don't even like summertime

Sometimes the truth can be

Passed off as a joke

That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt

With a voice that

Would be irritating

If it weren't

So damned comforting

He laughs, "That's right,"

And leaves me to wonder

Just a second-generation recording, anyway

She can get it back

The quality won't be quite as good

But she can get a third-generation copy

From me

Yes, he was here earlier

But he's gone to work now

Over on that street that's named

For the town it leads to

It's funny because nobody takes that road

To that town anymore

We all use the highway

No, she wasn't with him. Why?

Is there anything I can do?

But it's okay now.And, hey, did you see the

latest movie?

I'd love to buy you a drink

Or something for the house

But can I just sit and talk to you instead.

Not one single message on my machine

Makes me think maybe

Someone's sneaking in and erasing them all

Paranoid? Why do you ask?

I forgot to feed the fish

Oh, I hope the message eraser fed them

Or maybe the machine's just being anal-retentive

(It's Freudian, don't ask me)

Have we really changed so much?

It's silly of me

To think we wouldn't

Remember?

We thought we would Change The World

It somehow changed us instead

Today I feel very old.

I skipped puberty altogether

That's probably best

I don't know that

I could've handled puberty this morning

But the songs are still good

Then I look at the Popcorn Sky

And foolishly think that

I can handle ANYTHING

So maybe this is my puberty

I don't recall that

It felt this way the first time

Jane is a good name, don't you think

Many Janes have become famous

Of course, I'm not fond of the name George

Even though there have been

More famous Georges than Janes

I set the margins wrong

So I failed the test

Some people say too much

I've never been able to tell a story

Without going off on tangents

And forgetting what

I meant to say

Was that it didn't really matter

That dinner was late

Just let me talk to you

That's really all I want

Just some mindless chit-chat

That's all it is anyway

That's all it has ever been.

Now, where was I?