Forced to recognize our inhumanity, our reason coexists with our insanity. And though we choose between reality and madness, it’s either sadness or euphoria.
Oh, she takes care of herself. She can wait if she wants. She’s ahead of her time. Oh, and she never gives out. And she never gives in. She just changes her mind.
So I would choose to be with you. That’s if the choice were mine to make. But you can make decisions too. And you can have this heart to break. And so it goes, and so it goes. And you’re the only one who knows.
It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in / There’s an old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin / He says, ‘Son, can you play me a memory?
