The Hardware Store

Breathing through a plastic bag until I'm out of air
Is how I would describe our love, 'cause you don't seem to care
But somehow we still function to a point that I can bare
And sometimes I do wonder what's to come of this despair

Though I'll have you know in lucid dreams, I live a second life
Where I am not your husband, no, and you are not my wife
But when the curtains fall for me, I know I must get up
To gain the strength to rise from bed, I wish you'd just shut up

Lies, more lies, and alibis, like your trips to the hardware store
We don't need that much gorilla glue, I know what you go there for
You take me for some facile fool, and I find that quite a bore
You think you're so equivocal, but I've deduced you're just a whore

(Written on October 22, 2012)

© Ricky Randall
October 22, 2012