It's just that simple.
I made up a fantasy...sing song sorrows til morning. Normal.
A story real to me of memories and vision and romance.
And the spaghetti has no meat balls.
It's flavorless, and TV dinner watching and I hate TV.
I say so good for me? But where did I go?
Certainly slurping up these noodles of normal, blah blah blah savor less sauce.
Not even any tomorrow chunks?
Just blah like prison spaghetti...maybe just jail...but I have heard this tune.
My ex said don't feed me that shit, "I hate spaghetti." Prison. Spaghetti.
Wish granted. Would you like some Parmesan?
If only I got what I made up.
If only a life a miracles weren't my mind and he says "you think?"
You think these things to be true about yourself?
That I am some how amazing?
Oh but if you only knew what I can't speak, I write?
I can't explain all this love?
I can't explain the sad sorrow of losing my spaghetti over you.
I can't explain who you are to me any more.
I won't conceive it trite, or simple to say I have loved a visionary, unavailable, unattainable and exit stage right...alone.
I cannot explain why the noodles are raw and chewy and undercooked...
Or why we slurped the same noodle all the way til our lips touched...for a long ass time.
Just stunned there...like what the fuk in fuk?
Step away no pepper or salt, just plain.
No flavor paste.
Copy. Paste. Return. Delete. Type.
Erase my recipe for Italian looking lover.
I will eat dinner alone tonight.
And it will be Ramen.
I made up a fantasy...sing song sorrows til morning. Normal.
A story real to me of memories and vision and romance.
And the spaghetti has no meat balls.
It's flavorless, and TV dinner watching and I hate TV.
I say so good for me? But where did I go?
Certainly slurping up these noodles of normal, blah blah blah savor less sauce.
Not even any tomorrow chunks?
Just blah like prison spaghetti...maybe just jail...but I have heard this tune.
My ex said don't feed me that shit, "I hate spaghetti." Prison. Spaghetti.
Wish granted. Would you like some Parmesan?
If only I got what I made up.
If only a life a miracles weren't my mind and he says "you think?"
You think these things to be true about yourself?
That I am some how amazing?
Oh but if you only knew what I can't speak, I write?
I can't explain all this love?
I can't explain the sad sorrow of losing my spaghetti over you.
I can't explain who you are to me any more.
I won't conceive it trite, or simple to say I have loved a visionary, unavailable, unattainable and exit stage right...alone.
I cannot explain why the noodles are raw and chewy and undercooked...
Or why we slurped the same noodle all the way til our lips touched...for a long ass time.
Just stunned there...like what the fuk in fuk?
Step away no pepper or salt, just plain.
No flavor paste.
Copy. Paste. Return. Delete. Type.
Erase my recipe for Italian looking lover.
I will eat dinner alone tonight.
And it will be Ramen.