thinkinanalog

"Smokey Clothes"
By Think In Analog

Damn! My clothes smell like cigarette smoke again.
From the front row of a nightclub at a concert with a friend.
The exteriors of the club scene fits my innermost expression:
Just a blur of lonely sadness and a lingering depression.
I felt like an observer, like I wasn't standing in my shoes
Like someone else was standing there, someone with everything to lose
Outside it's cold and dark, just like the inside hot and sweaty
We walk back to where our cars are parked and I am more than ready
The touch of someone else is best in imagination or fiction
It seems false and wanting more, but all that I can feel is friction
Her tongue it tastes of liquor as her figure straddles me
I hit a double in the park and make it back to home by three
It seemed better in my head I think it always is that way
To have imaginary make outs and imaginary days
When I get home I don't sleep yet cause the night feels incomplete
Like a runner who didn't get to run when he went to the track meet
Damn! My clothes smell like cigarette smoke again.
I will strip, jump in the covers, and pretend this is the end.