she's gone...

like smoke in your hand you just can't seem to hold.

today is going to be long, truly alone, and loads of work. inside, i'm on fire, outside, i'm not even sure i'm here. no sad songs on the iPod for me today, i already have too many in my head.

i think i need my friends more than ever right now, but i'm kept half a world away by this stupid fukking job. the phone works, but it's just not the same as a friendly, in-person "dude, i feel ya, but get your fukking head right, move on" followed by a poignant punch in the arm and a few beers.



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she tied me to my kitchen chair, she broke my throne, and she cut my hair, and from my lips she drew a hallelujah...