While you’re out there having fun, I’m trying to start the engine and go home. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to go with you, I really do. I mean, your time here is short, you’re leaving in the next 2 days and this might be the last time hanging out with you ever. But I just gotta go home. I gotta work in the very early morning on Sunday just to be able to earn some extra to pay for those nights like those I spent with you.
While you’re out there having fun, I’m lying in bed wondering what could have happened if I had run off with you. You are probably on the dance floor right now, where the loud music and alcohol kick in, blended with the heat giving off from those sweat bodies next to bodies. Feeling a little bit out of control with you would or having some intimate moments would be my perfect weekend fantasy. But I just know it’s not going to happen since I heard you sing those angry songs about life and love. All I have to offer are those that are broken and mellow while you choose to express what you feel inside in a way that I’m not familiar or might even find offensive.
While you’re out there having fun, I’m thinking about any scenarios that might happen between you and maybe some strangers who are willing to go all the way without any kind of commitment. I resent myself for falling in the same traps over and over again and still have no idea of getting out. I always try to be mean and opponent of those that I like. I always try to look for that dedication something before I can give anything I consider sacred. I’m just like an alien to your natural surrounding, I guess.
While you’re out there having fun, I’m literally exhausted. My body is craving in the ache that runs all over my asymmetric bone system. I should be sleeping right now but my mind is travelling to forbidden land where lust and fondness are abundant but ironically making overcharging me. The aftermath is just too much of another burden.
While you’re out there having fun, I really do hope you have fun. I saw you secretly taping me singing those sad songs with your phone. I don’t know why you do it but I do believe that we did have fun. When Chelsea Hotel No. 2 was on on the exact same day last year when I slept with that guy. If I ever see you again, I can’t figure out why you looked at me with such wondering eyes. But I don’t mind doing it all over one more time, receiving your weird looks, the drink, the weeds, the smoke, the talk, the rubbish, the letting it all out. You’ve got funny body language when you have fun and I would love to be able to witness it again, even if I would probably find myself in this situation for some time longer.